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by elbeeinthewild
Summary: Tony has resigned from NCIS; in part to ensure the safety of those he cares about and also having concluded he and Gibbs can no longer work together. What happens next for Tony and for the MCRT in the days, weeks, and months after his resignation? Part 2 of 3 - immediately follows events in my first story "Turning the Page". Gen.
1. Early Warnings

Chapter 1: Early Warnings

McGee yawned widely as he parked in the NCIS garage and headed inside, having arrived nearly two hours early. Given the circumstances, he figured an early start to get his bearings and review whatever Tony had left for him in terms of turnover would be a good use of time. He slept restlessly last night anyway; Tony's brief visit the previous evening had left him anxious about what to expect at work today. Delilah had been shocked to hear of Tony's sudden resignation and asked Tim to invite him over so she could say goodbye in person. Tony had agreed easily, stopping by with flowers and an apology for "Wheels" as well as a bottle of wine which they'd shared. After a couple hours of easy, relaxed conversation, Delilah had excused herself to go to bed, leaving the two men alone. He recalled the uneasy feeling he'd gotten when Tony's expression turned serious; a feeling that was justified when Tony explained his sudden change in demeanor.

"What is it, Tony?" he asked.

Tony heaved a sigh before answering. "I was going to call you tonight anyway, but I'm glad I got the chance to see Delilah again before leaving. I imagine you'll be filling in for me until decisions are made on the SFA spot and I didn't want you to be caught off guard tomorrow morning."

He wasn't sure if he was ready to hear any more revelations from Tony this weekend, but if it was something Tony thought he should know, he owed it to him to listen. "Caught off guard by what, Tony?"

"Gibbs," he replied succinctly. "I have every expectation he'll be on the warpath tomorrow and you'll be one of the first in the line of fire."

"Ah," Tim said, nodding. "He didn't take the news well, huh?"

Tony grimaced then gave a harsh little chuckle. "Oh, you could say that. There's a little more to it though. I also told him some things that probably weren't very easy to hear, especially from me, and he did _not_ react well. Let's just say we didn't part ways on the best of terms."

"It didn't get physical, did it?" Tim asked in concern, leaning forward and scrutinizing his friend carefully for signs of an altercation.

"No, nothing like that." Tony reassured him. "He's pretty pissed with me though, and it's not unheard of for him to take something like that out on others. I don't entirely know what to expect from him anymore, and I just wanted you to be ready for whatever may happen."

Tim studied his friend, getting the distinct feeling that Tony was downplaying the seriousness of his confrontation with Gibbs. Even if it hadn't come to blows, it may well have come closer than Tony was willing to admit. Tim was ashamed to admit to himself that his own past behavior had been influenced at times by his envy at their closeness. Now he felt a wave of empathy come over him because whatever _had_ happened, Tony was clearly more affected by it than he let on. He never thought he'd see the day when what once seemed an unbreakable bond between these two men would fall apart so completely and he couldn't help but wonder what exactly was at the heart of it.

Doubting he'd get an answer, he simply replied "Thanks Tony. I appreciate the heads-up."

"It's the least I can do, since I put you in this position in the first place." Tony said, looking down and giving a small smile that was shadow of his usual bright grin.

Tim shook his head. "Tony, I don't know exactly what's gone wrong between you and Gibbs, but I _do_ know one thing. Some of the blame, if not a lion's share of it, rests on Gibbs' shoulders. So whatever you do, don't take all of it on yourself. "

Tony flashed him a more sincere and grateful smile as he replied, "I'll do my best, but you know me."

"I _do_ know you," Tim said firmly. "So I'll say it again. Don't blame yourself."

Tony nodded and changed the subject. "Look, it's getting late and I still have packing to do. Speaking of packing, I've left a box of files and stuff you'll need next to your desk, so you should check that out first thing. Really, I'm not sure which one of us is going to have a more…interesting day tomorrow, so I should leave," he said as he rose from the couch.

Tim stood and saw Tony to the door. "I appreciate you going out of your way to make time to see Delilah. Thanks again for coming by, and for the warning," Tim said with a smile. "Take care of yourself, ok?"

As they shook hands Tony said, "You too, Tim. Watch your six out there." When Tim would have pulled back, Tony tightened his grip briefly. His green eyes were suddenly dark, intent, and filled with something else Tim couldn't discern. "And watch Gibbs' six too. _Carefully_." Tony released his hand, turned, and walked away before Tim could ask him why he got the feeling there was some special significance to those parting words. More than that, it felt as though they held a note of warning.

That parting comment last night had kept him awake and the longer he thought about it, the more edgy he'd felt. Tony had been trying to tell him something and most likely out of some misguided loyalty to Gibbs, he wouldn't just say it straight out. He'd discuss it with Ducky first chance he got and see what his take on it would be.

He reached the team's area of the bullpen, doing a double-take and stopping in his tracks at Tony's desk. It was completely clean and the tackboard behind his desk once covered with team photos, department memos, and reminder stickies was depressingly empty. Tim shook his head at the absence of even the smallest sign Tony had sat there for 15 years. That was going to take some getting used to.

He continued on to his own desk, spotting the file box Tony left for him right away. He pulled out his chair to find a metal lockbox with a note taped to the top. Setting the small, but rather weighty box on his desk, he un-taped the note and began reading. Shocked, he sat down heavily as he realized what the box was, and its significance to Tony. While the reasons behind it saddened him, he was humbled and pleased that Tony entrusted the box of Gibbs' medals to him. He placed it in his bottom desk drawer and locked it, resolving to keep it safe in his care as Tony had done for so many years before him. He powered on his computer and as it booted, he pulled Tony's file box closer to him and began to unpack its contents while he waited for Bishop to arrive.

Next up: Gibbs arrives. Will Tony's prediction pan out? Hmm.


	2. Crack in the Foundation

Chapter 2: Cracks in the Foundation

Gibbs passed through security, coffee in hand, and made his way toward the elevator. This Monday was going to be a nightmare; he was exhausted and his head thudded relentlessly. The confrontation with DiNozzo Saturday evening left him feeling gutted. Unable to sleep or concentrate on the boat, he'd spent the remainder of the weekend overindulging in bourbon and self-pity. His moods swung wildly between fury, indignation, and shame. Gibbs still felt deeply unsettled and angry about DiNozzo's sudden resignation and his assertions about Gibbs' physical and emotional state. He was unable to come to terms with any of it, choosing instead to settle on denial. DiNozzo's accusations were stuffed in box someplace in the back of his mind where he wouldn't have to deal with them. Arriving at the elevator, he stepped inside the thankfully empty car and pressed the button for the bullpen floor.

Gibbs exited the elevator and flinched slightly as DiNozzo's bare desk came into view. McGee and Bishop were already in the bullpen, both huddled around McGee's desk for some reason. His irritation rose as they looked up at his approach and watched him uncertainly.

"You two have something to say?" he growled.

So this was how it was going to be, McGee thought as he looked at Bishop then back at Gibbs. "No boss," they answered in unison.

"Then I suggest you get to work," he said as he glowered at them. "The reports and case files aren't going to fill themselves out just because DiNozzo left us high and dry."

"Uh, he didn't boss," McGee said quietly as Bishop moved to one side and slightly behind him, showing her silent support.

Gibbs froze, surprised and irritated at the challenge however softly it was spoken. He stepped right up to McGee and stared a moment; an intentional move to intimidate the younger man. "He didn't _what_ , McGee?"

McGee paled slightly, but his voice was steady as met Gibbs' eyes and answered. "He didn't leave us high and dry. All the team requisitions and reports for the next month are done, including yours. They're in your box for signature."

"Is that so?"

" _Yes_ , that's so" McGee replied emphatically. "Not only that, he's left all his own reports, case summaries, notes and potential leads on every cold case file he's worked."

Bishop just watched, wide-eyed as Gibbs glared a moment, leaned even closer to McGee. His voice carried a dangerous edge as he growled, "Anything else you'd like to add McGee?"

McGee resented Gibbs' attitude in the face of a situation that _he_ helped create. McGee hadn't really stepped up and taken Tony's side lately when it might still have made a difference, but he could damn well do it now. He was not only upset that Tony clearly felt he was forced into leaving. He was also angry that Gibbs refused to acknowledge the time and effort Tony must have put into minimizing the impact of his sudden departure, all while trying to arrange his affairs before moving away. He made his upset clear as he replied.

"As a matter of fact, there _is_ Boss. Not only did Tony clear our paperwork backlog, he made sure we'd have weeks in the clear unless we get a new case. You haven't even seen everything he did yet. From where I sit, he did his best to leave us on solid footing. He didn't _have_ to complete any of it, and yet he did. To be fair, you could maybe take a look before you accuse him of leaving us high and dry." Determined to hold his ground, McGee waited to see how a clearly angry Gibbs would respond to the uncharacteristic challenge to his authority.

"Fair, McGee? I'll tell you what's _fair_..." Gibbs began loudly. McGee startled slightly and Gibbs stopped speaking as a raised voice carried down from the landing above.

"Excuse me."

Both men looked up to see Vance at the railing, observing them.

Vance looked down at the floor below, his mouth set in a grim line as he noticed the early shift personnel had clearly been eavesdropping on the drama going on around Gibbs' team. Looking pointedly at the team leader in question, he said "Agent Gibbs…a word please," then turned back toward his office.

Gibbs met McGee's eyes again and took a step back, outwardly gaining control of his temper once again. "Both of you get to work. Cold cases until I say otherwise," then he turned and took the stairs up to Vance's office. Bishop and McGee were left staring at each other in surprise at Gibbs' behavior toward McGee, and wondering what to tell the onlookers who'd begun gathering around them now that he was no longer in the room.

Vance stood behind his desk as Gibbs entered his office and shut the door behind him. He watched in disbelief as Gibbs strode up to the desk, his bearing entirely nonchalant, as if his team weren't suddenly a man down and as if he hadn't just been putting on a show in the bullpen.

"You wanted to see me Leon?"

"This isn't a social call, Agent Gibbs," he replied in a no-nonsense tone. "Would you care to enlighten me as to the events that led to your team being short a Senior Field Agent?"

I don't know, _director._ He gave his resignation to you, not me. I expect DiNozzo should have _enlightened_ you.

"Save the smart ass Gibbs, I'm not in the mood." Vance replied coolly.

Gibbs smirked at the reproach and replied. "He left for another job, what else do you need to know? What do you expect me to explain about that other than he felt it was time to move on?"

Vance raised his eyebrows at that, looking at Gibbs skeptically as he replied. "Mm-hmm." He went on, clearly indicating his irritation with Gibbs' attitude. "Well then maybe you'll find it a little easier to explain what was going on between you and McGee just now."

"We were discussing the vacancy on the team and status of our paperwork." Gibbs replied in a neutral voice.

"Oh really?" I can't imagine what would be so interesting about that," Vance said sarcastically. "So why did everyone else on the floor gather round like they were watching a WWE match?"

"I have no idea." Gibbs said. He continued, tilting his head in that infuriatingly smug way of his. "Want me to ask 'em?"

"Gibbs, I didn't fall off a turnip truck and land in this chair," Vance said tersely. "DiNozzo leaving the way he did and you being in McGee's face just now tells me there's something going on within your team. The fact that you can't or won't explain it tells me you're part of it somehow."

"Is that what DiNozzo told you?" Gibbs asked sharply.

"DiNozzo didn't tell me a damn thing. Not about where he's going or what he's doing. Oh, I got an entirely plausible explanation for his sudden departure, if a little lacking in detail. Detail I suspect has everything to do with you."

Gibbs recognized he needed to back off on his knee-jerk adversarial response. The last thing he wanted was Vance to interfere or dig deeper until he got his head around DiNozzo's accusations. "What do you want to hear, Leon?" Gibbs said in a conciliatory tone.

"Apparently, something neither you or DiNozzo are willing to share," Vance said. "You and I have come to an understanding in recent years. I've overlooked your team's idiosyncrasies and unconventional methods, particularly yours, for a long time because together you got results."

Vance continued while looking at Gibbs pointedly, "I am not happy with this turn of events and losing an agent of DiNozzo's caliber. If you want that same latitude from me going forward, your team will continue to perform as well with a new SFA."

"We'll do what we always have, Leon. The job will get done." Gibbs asserted.

"I'll be watching your team's handling of this development going forward, so see that it does," Vance said. "I've assigned Jeff Ellis as your interim SFA. He's due in this afternoon. Give him a chance, Gibbs."

"What about McGee?" Gibbs questioned. "He's qualified. Why not move him up and assign us a junior agent?"

Vance shook his head. "I'm sure McGee could handle it but Ellis is senior to McGee by over a year and has already been serving as a SFA overseas. I think it's best for your team to have another experienced agent, not a probie, considering Bishop is not too far removed from her probationary period."

"Fine, Leon." Gibbs relented, not wanting to push his luck with Vance right now. "Is there anything else? I'd like to get a handle on where we're at and inform the others about our interim SFA."

Vance shook his head as he replied neutrally, "No Gibbs. Just remember I'll be keeping an eye on things."

"Like always, right?" Gibbs replied sardonically as he turned to leave.

Vance contemplated the recent developments with the MCRT as the door closed behind Gibbs. This situation definitely bore watching. He'd made a quick decision after DiNozzo's sudden resignation to assign Ellis to Gibbs' team. The more senior agent was a tough former military man like Gibbs. He would be more apt to challenge Gibbs if needed, and not roll over like a probie when confronted with Gibbs' tendency toward intimidation. He'd also be an impartial observer to the inner workings of the premiere investigative team, and well placed to perceive the internal problems he strongly suspected were there.

Vance shook his head ruefully. Gibbs' evasiveness over DiNozzo's resignation and clear interest in what DiNozzo might have told him gave Vance a _very_ uneasy feeling. The question was what exactly to do about it.

Next up: A peek in on Tony as he hits the ground running in Seattle.


	3. Decisions

Chapter 3: Decisions

Tony stood at the large picture window in his new apartment, taking in the clearing skies and spectacular sunset that was a welcome departure from the persistent rain of his first few days in Seattle. Beer bottle in hand, he settled into the cozy seating area by the large windows, chairs strategically placed to take advantage of the panoramic views of downtown and the surrounding waterways. While he missed his longtime residence in DC, he certainly had no complaints about this view and the more spacious, nicely furnished apartment the task force had arranged for him to use. It was his until he got his bearings on the task force and decided if he wanted a different arrangement.

For now, he appreciated the chance to wind down and reflect on the hectic routine of his first few days here. Joanna had introduced him to the other federal agency heads on the small task force. He'd received briefings on the ongoing progress of the various units' counter terrorism investigative and intelligence work, both in the US and at principal overseas CIA offices. He'd been afforded the opportunity to review personnel jackets of the principle players on the task force and was impressed with the quality and skill sets of the small but diverse group.

Hiding in plain sight, the task force operated out of a nondescript building which by all outward appearances was a warehouse with office space. The building housed "Sentinel Security Systems", which they also called "S3" for short. S3 was actually a CIA front set up specifically to cover the existence of the task force and the fact that the building was full of federal agents.

Tony was pleasantly surprised at how well equipped and funded the small task force seemed to be. It was something that couldn't always be counted on at NCIS, compared to larger federal agencies such as the CIA, FBI, and even Homeland Security. The task force field and investigative agents were outfitted by a well-equipped armory and supported with sufficient tactical gear. They even had a small pool of vehicles, including mobile surveillance vans in a garage next door. The task force also had an impressive communications center that while smaller in scale, rivaled the NCIS LA Office of Special Projects Ops center and MTAC at NCIS HQ in capability. Smiling, he thought fondly of McGee for a moment and how he would be in techno-geek heaven in the the comm center.

With what free time he'd had, Tony did a bit of exploring around the city. While he found Seattle appealing so far, Tony was hesitant to say he was liked it enough to lay down roots here. One thing he _could_ say, and that was he hadn't realized how oppressive and toxic working with Gibbs had become until he left DC. Although he still felt pangs of regret over how things turned out, leaving that behind was more of a relief than he expected. He'd needed a fresh start somewhere and this was as good a place as any for the time being.

Right now, Tony had a job to do and decisions to make. The task force was chomping at the bit to get him onboard. He'd asked Joanna and the others for a few hours to weigh his options and they'd agreed, but now she would be stopping by soon to discuss his role on the task force.

That had to be settled before he and Joanna headed to Shanghai to coordinate with local intelligence analysts. Joanna had been pleased to learn of his ongoing studies in Chinese Mandarin and the local dialect used in Shanghai, and felt he'd be an asset in their efforts there. Tony sat and allowed his thoughts to wander ahead until pulled from his reverie by a soft knocking at the door.

Tony opened the door and waved Joanna in as she smiled in greeting. Tony grabbed two beers, handed one over, and they each took a chair by the window.

"So Tony," Joanna began, coming right to the point, "what are you thinking?"

"First things first," Tony replied. "How do the agency leads feel about the issues I raised?" Tony asked with an air of hesitation that Joanna caught straight away.

"Let me put your mind at ease, Tony. Everyone was impressed with your assessment and recommendations. You gave us exactly what we wanted and frankly, what we needed." Joanna let that settle a moment, and then continued.

"There's never been a task force quite like this one. You are a fresh set of eyes able to assess what we're doing from an investigative standpoint. Having worked with the other agencies represented, you're unique in that you already have an understanding of how each of them work, not just the experience you bring from NCIS. Trust me; what you relayed about our strengths and limitations was well-received."

Tony tipped his head in acknowledgement of her words and took a sip of his beer. Even though he trusted Joanna, he was far too jaded from past experience to do so implicitly. While his first impressions of them were favorable, he sure as hell wasn't going to blindly trust leads from other federal agencies that he didn't know and hadn't worked with. They were going to have to earn it.

"That's good to hear," Tony said while giving her a skeptical look. "What changes are they willing to make?"

"They agree to implement any reasonable changes you can justify and you've already done so in some cases. What are your primary concerns?" Joanna asked.

Tony considered what he'd learned for a moment and replied. "You don't have a forensics lab on site for one. I've made some inquiries about the lab at the FBI regional office here in Seattle. They're well equipped and it's a good solution if resource sharing can be worked out by the task force."

Joanna nodded thoughtfully. "Good idea, Tony. Anything else?"

"The disconnect between field investigative agents and the intel analysts. You've got intel people from the CIA, which inherently isolates itself, and investigators from other agencies and backgrounds that aren't used to collaborating. They're all working in a vacuum and someone needs to coordinate and focus their efforts. Each unit needs ongoing input from the other in order to be effective," Tony explained.

Joanna nodded in agreement. "I thought that would be the case, but wanted to be sure. I talked to them about that and we discussed a solution we'd like propose to you."

Tony was again pleasantly surprised at the vote of confidence and appreciated the other leads' willingness to be receptive to his suggestions. It was a welcome and refreshing change from his last year or so at NCIS.

"I'm all ears Joanna," he said. "What's the proposal?"

"We propose to realign some intel analysts and imbed them with the investigative teams. A supervisory agent will oversee and coordinate their work, and liaise with the overseas units as well." Joanna paused and looked at Tony expectantly. "This is by no means your only option, but we'd like you to consider that position."

Tony considered that for a moment. The realignment made good sense; it's what he would have done. He wondered how much flexibility he'd be given in a role like that.

"You do understand I'm not a desk jockey, right?" Tony asked. "I'm an investigator and a field agent. I'm not looking for a role that prevents me from working in the field." Tony said.

"I think you'll find you have a lot more latitude here, Tony." Joanna replied. "I expect you could both coordinate and float between the teams, working in the field as needed. You just need to decide which agency you want to join. So…CIA?" Joanna asked, giving him a crooked smile.

Tony chuckled. "No offense Joanna, but having dealt with the likes of Trent Kort and Ray Cruz, I can't see myself actually joining the CIA."

"None taken." Joanna said as she smiled wryly. "You had something else in mind then?"

"Well, like I said…I'm an investigator at heart. Out of all the options we've discussed previously, there's really only one good fit…" Tony's voice trailed off.

Joanna watched him and raised an eyebrow inquiringly, wondering what the reluctance to continue was about.

Tony shook his head and glanced down for a moment. Then he looked up and grinned, amusement showing plainly in his green eyes. "I am _never_ gonna hear the end of this if Fornell gets wind of it, but I think the FBI is the best fit for me."

Joanna was unable to stop a burst of laughter at that revelation. Recovering her composure she said with a smile, "So, FBI it is then. What about Gibbs finding out?"

She watched the previous good humor fade from Tony's demeanor as he replied. "Gibbs is nowhere near getting on the list of people that I would worry about finding out," he replied tonelessly. Joanna realized she stepped in it a bit, and that Gibbs must still be a sore point with Tony.

Joanna would make a point to steer clear of that topic going forward unless Tony brought it up himself. He was right though. It wasn't Gibbs they really needed to worry about. "Understood. It does bring up another point you need to consider," she said.

"What's that?" Tony asked, confusion creeping into his expression.

"Remember, The Calling has been targeting people involved in their takedown last year. I'm known to them but you aren't…at least as far as we can ascertain. That could change."

"Believe me, I haven't forgotten that," Tony said bitterly. "It _is_ partly why I'm here. What's your point?"

"My point is we'd like to prevent them finding out about you if at all possible."

"How do you propose to do that?" he asked.

"We'd like you to consider joining the task force under an assumed name." Joanna said. "We're prepared to create an alternate identity and back story that mirrors your own. Your real personnel file will be sealed to prevent disclosure. Anyone looking for Tony DiNozzo will find that he's dropped off the radar." Joanna paused then said, "That means your former coworkers as well." She looked at Tony meaningfully and continued, "So you need to be very careful with how you go about contacting them."

"You want me to work on a Federal task force of all places, under an assumed name for an indeterminate amount of time?" Tony asked in disbelief.

"You've done it before; more than once," Joanna reasoned. "The Calling is the main priority of the task force as they seem to be more firmly established and they've actively targeted the CIA. Hopefully, we can dismantle them again sooner rather than later, and do away with the need for an assumed name."

"Whether or not I _can_ do it isn't at issue here." Tony replied tersely. "The issue is whether I _should_. _"_

"Tony, we need every advantage we can get here," Joanna urged. "This will give us one, and keep you safer to boot. I think you should do it, Tony," she pressed.

Tony sighed in irritation, knowing Joanna had a point. It would not only hide his identity from The Calling, it would hopefully make it harder for them to target his friends and family as well.

"Alright," he conceded. "I don't like it, but I'll do it. Only as long as I have to, and no longer," Tony warned.

"If it helps, I think it's the right thing to do for the time being." Joanna said.

"We'll see," Tony said doubtfully. "One more condition…I get to pick the name," he said with a smirk. "Let's get your fellow spooks working on it, because I'm going to need identification squared away before we can travel, or do much of anything else."

"Already working on it Tony; just waiting on the go from you to proceed." Joanna replied. "Now that we have it, we'll work to get everything ready for you by Monday." Joanna rose to leave. "We're using the DC office for this to minimize the number of people here "in the know". I'll check in to make sure we can make that happen, and I'll call you when we're ready for the name. Until then, enjoy the down time. We've got a busy week in store."

"Oh, I think I have enough to keep me busy for a day or two," Tony said as he inclined his head toward the moving boxes stacked along one wall.

"I'll leave you to it then," Joanna said as she moved toward the door.

Tony let her out and locked the door behind her. Leaning back against the door for a moment, he muttered to himself, "That's not exactly what I had in mind when I decided I needed a fresh start."

Looking toward the boxes he'd been mostly ignoring since they were delivered earlier in the week, he sighed and set about opening a few to decide where to begin. If nothing else, he could at least finish settling in and make the apartment a little more comfortable.

He'd been putting things away for a few hours when Joanna called to go over particulars of his identity and discuss the name he would be using. "Call me Nick," he said. He spelled out the full name for her, then began to explain the origin of the name he'd chosen to use.

Next up: Back to DC. The MCRT has had a bit more trying of a week than Tony has.


	4. Backlash

Chapter 4: Backlash

Ducky closed the autopsy drawer and paused to catch his breath. It occurred to him more often than not lately, that he might be getting to old to be hefting the dearly departed around between the tables and drawers without assistance. He turned back to the table to gather his notes so he could start his report for Agent Davis and his team; taking advantage of the quiet while Mr. Palmer was at lunch with Agent Bishop. He wondered briefly how things were going upstairs, on this first work day after Anthony's sudden departure.

The office grapevine was already firmly engaged in spreading rumor and innuendo. No doubt helped along by Jethro's display of temper toward McGee in the bullpen that morning, to which Mr. Palmer had been one of many witnesses. No sooner did those thoughts occur to him, than he heard the elevator chime and the doors open. A moment later, Agent McGee appeared in the doorway.

"Ah, hello Timothy," he greeted. "What brings you to autopsy? Certainly not a case."

"Hey Ducky. No; not a case. I was hoping you'd have a few minutes to talk," McGee said somewhat hesitantly.

From the look on McGee's face, Ducky supposed he'd be learning how things were going upstairs a little sooner than he expected. "Of course my boy. Shall we take a seat in my office?" McGee followed him and took the extra chair, uncertainty radiating from every pore. "What is it you wish to discuss?" Ducky prompted gently. McGee fidgeted a moment, and began. "Gibbs told us we're getting a new interim SFA."

"Oh yes? Who would that be?"

"Well, Gibbs didn't say; only that he'd be here late today or tonight to check in, so I'm guessing it's not someone from this office. We asked, but to put it mildly Gibbs has been in no mood to answer our questions. He's putting off the unapproachable vibes like you wouldn't believe."

"Oh," Ducky said, nodding sagely, "I have no trouble whatsoever believing that. What is it about this development that concerns you?"

"Well, I should be asking the boss this, but I don't think I'd get an answer with the mood he's in. I'm wondering if you might have any idea why he passed me over when I'd be a logical choice to fill in for Tony, at least temporarily. Tony seemed to think that's what would happen." McGee paused and shook his head in frustration. "I realize that sounds a bit childish, but honestly if that's how he wants it, I'm fine with it. I'd just like to understand the reasons why, in case its something I need to improve on."

"You are assuming this was Jethro's decision, Timothy." Ducky chided.

McGee blinked and considered that. "Yes, I suppose I was. You don't think so?"

"Well," Ducky began, "I can't say for certain, but I believe Anthony may have underestimated Director Vance's level of interest in the circumstances surrounding his departure from NCIS."

"I see. So the new SFA is probably here to keep an eye on us, then," McGee said, frowning.

"That may or may not be. Would you see it as a negative? Keeping an open mind will serve you well in any case. If the director feels there are concerns internal to your team, who better suited to note them than an outsider? To your original point, the important thing is it shouldn't be taken as a lack of confidence in your abilities."

McGee nodded, considering. "It helps to know that could be the explanation. Really though, I dont know that we'll have any more concerns now that Tony's gone."

"Why would you say that Timothy?" Ducky asked in surprise. After what Tony disclosed to them at dinner the other evening, he certainly hoped Tony wasn't being blamed for Gibbs' atrocious behavior of late.

"I didn't mean anything by it Ducky. It's just that without Tony here, Gibbs has no reason to behave the same way he did," McGee said, glancing down at the floor as if he didn't really believe his own words.

Ducky made his skepticism plain. "That remains to be seen, I should think."

McGee looked up sharply at that, but remained silent.

Ducky scrutinized him carefully then asked "You have something else weighing on your mind, Timothy? Something other than the question of your new SFA?"

"Actually, yes. When you and Tony talked alone after dinner the other night, did he say anything strange?"

"Strange in what way?" Ducky asked, intrigued. "Are you asking about something specific?"

"Well, about Gibbs I guess. Tony dropped by last night to say goodbye to Delilah. As he was leaving, he said something strange about Gibbs and then left before I could ask him what he meant. I'm not sure how I should take it. But to be honest, it felt like a warning. Gibbs' problem is about more than Tony, isn't it?"

"Timothy, I can't betray his confidence, but I will tell you this. You _know_ Anthony. You have a sharp mind and you have eyes and ears of your own." Ducky let that sink in for a few seconds then continued; his voice somber. "You trust him, presumably. If what he said felt like a warning, I suggest you heed it."

"I understand Ducky," McGee nodded, his own expression serious. "Thanks for the talk. I better get back upstairs, before I give Gibbs another reason to be on the warpath today."

McGee rubbed his temples absently noting an oncoming headache. As he reached into his desk drawer for a bottle of aspirin, he saw Jeff Ellis out of the corner of his eye. Their new interim SFA seemed hard at work at Tony's old desk. It was so strange to see someone else there. Ellis seemed content to observe their work for the time being rather than make any changes to how they did things. Ellis often jumped in with questions and asked their input, which put him and Bishop more at ease. Personality-wise, he was a stark contrast to Tony's outgoing and affable nature. While Tony had engaged in teasing and often goofy antics in the bullpen, Ellis was more quiet; by the book and professional.

He was genial enough though, and McGee and Bishop tried to make him feel welcome. Gibbs wasn't making it easy, putting them firmly in the middle of a less than ideal situation where they both felt conflict between their loyalty to Gibbs and their need move forward in Tony's absence. Gibbs had little interest in making the new agent on the team feel welcome, ignoring him whenever possible. That made for a strained atmosphere as they tried to learn to work together.

Tuesday morning, he'd barely finished showing Ellis around and getting him oriented on their paperwork and the team's basic routine when they'd caught a case. They had an apparent drug-related murder of a sailor, a now-missing roommate, and had exhausted all their initial leads on the case.

McGee winced as a stony-faced Gibbs entered the bull pen, knowing he wasn't going to be happy about their stalled progress.

"You three have anything yet?" Gibbs barked as he came to a stop between their desks.

Ellis just looked up at Gibbs, an eyebrow raised at the tone, and said nothing.

Gibbs turned his glare on McGee, who instantly replied. "We're working on it boss; just haven't turned up anything new yet."

"I want the roommate here for questioning _yesterday_ ," Gibbs ordered, disapproval plain in his voice.

Ellis was fed up. "Back off Gibbs. What is your problem, anyway? Even I can see they are doing the best they can to get answers and you've been gone for two hours, so how would you know if we are or aren't doing enough?"

"You don't like the way I run my team _Ellis_?" Gibbs asked, hostility and disdain clear in his voice.

"You can run it any damn way you like as long as its reasonably close to being within NCIS guidelines. Browbeating people who are already doing their best isn't accomplishing anything toward getting us a lead in the case."

"All I need to know about what you three are doing is that I don't see any results yet." Gibbs ground out.

"Oh, _that's_ reasonable." Ellis shot right back. "We've talked to every witness we know about and there's a bolo out on the missing sailor. We don't have anything to go on from the autopsy or forensics yet. If you'll pitch in or at least stop distracting us, we might find a new lead. I'm not a mind reader so, if there's something more you think we should be doing you could, you know, _talk_ like a normal person instead of pretending I'm not here."

"My last SFA didn't have a problem anticipating what needed to be done," Gibbs challenged.

McGee and Bishop watched in fascination and astonishment as their SFA of four days surged to his feet, circled his desk and walked right up to Gibbs. Their admiration grew as he defended them, himself, and even Tony; who he'd never met, against Gibbs.

"You have good people here, Gibbs…some of the best. From all I've seen, DiNozzo was a fine, competent agent. So am I…but I'm not him, and lord knows I don't want to be if half of what I've heard about how he was treated is true."

"If you can't handle the pace of being my SFA, you know where Vance's office is," Gibbs snarked back.

Bishop and McGee were more than a little awed as they watched Ellis make a move they'd seen Gibbs make countless times. A sardonic smile appeared on his features. Then he leaned forward right into Gibbs space, staring and giving him a brief taste of his own intimidation tactics; now looking every bit like the formidable Army Ranger he'd once been.

Gibbs stood his ground and stared back icily as Ellis spoke. "Let's reach an understanding right here and now, Agent Gibbs," he said quietly. "If you're angling to get rid of me, you're going to have to work a lot harder. Believe me; you don't have the kind of time, energy, and imagination that will take. I don't know what kind of dysfunctional work family thing you've had going on here, but it has nothing to do with me. I won't be dismissed, intimidated, or treated with disrespect."

Ellis stepped back out of Gibbs' space and continued. "I'm competent, qualified, and I'm not going anywhere. You and I are going to have to learn to deal with one another. I don't need to be coddled however I do expect some professional courtesy out of you. I have no problem being called on it if I screw up, but right now? You are _out of line_."

McGee and Bishop eyed each other meaningfully from their desks as the "Gibbs glare" turned into a thoughtful expression. Gibbs was hardly predictable of late, and they wondered which way this was going to go.

Gibbs reconsidered his initial assessment of Ellis. A grudging respect conflicted with extreme irritation. The more forceful personality traits they both seemed to share meant he was likely going to be butting heads with another SFA, and frequently. For now, the focus needed to be shifted back to the case; especially before Vance caught wind of yet another confrontation in the bullpen.

Outwardly showing none of the anger he felt, Gibbs spoke in a neutral tone. "If you're finished Ellis, we could use a lead on this case. I'll check in with Ducky and Abby. You three get back to what you were doing. Call me if you turn up something before I get back." Without waiting for a reply, he turned and walked to the elevator.

After Gibbs was out of earshot, McGee heaved a relieved sigh and Ellis turned toward him, eyebrow raised. "Wow," McGee said. "For him, that was as good as a concession that you were right." Ellis glanced at Bishop, to see her nodding in agreement.

"You've _got_ to be kidding," he replied. "Our team lead doesn't exactly have stellar communication skills, does he?" Ellis asked as he walked back to his desk.

"You have no idea," Bishop threw in, shaking her head as she continued her work.

Gibbs entered the elevator and punched the button with far more force than necessary. His jaw actually ached from clenching his teeth so hard, and he barely restrained himself from punching the cool metal walls. Damn DiNozzo anyway, and damn Vance too for that matter.

Gibbs recognized that Ellis carried no blame for the confusion and uncertainty left in the wake of Tony's departure. That didn't make him less of a pain in Gibbs' ass. It was yet another element of a situation he was unable to mold into an outcome he wanted and he just _knew_ Vance was well aware of what he'd done. Gibbs ruthlessly shoved down the feeling of resentment toward Tony. Some part of him recognized not only was it petty and unfair; it was _exactly_ what Tony had accused him of.

His emotions were still strongly conflicted over Tony's assessment of Gibbs' behavior since returning to work. He still wasn't ready to confront those issues and on a surface level, and still laid the blame firmly at Tony's feet for things getting so far out of control.

Even so, a small voice in the back of his mind acknowledged that he missed Tony. As they'd arrived at the scene on their current case, he kept waiting for Tony to appear with his camera and sketchpad, only to be taken aback when Ellis was there instead. He'd nit-picked every last thing the man did differently than Tony had done.

As they conducted interviews and done the investigative legwork over the next two days, he'd found himself constantly looking for Tony or toward his desk, waiting for his input, and becoming angry when he didn't get it. He was frustrated beyond belief and cringed internally at the realization that he didn't like the guy mostly because he wasn't Tony.

Ducky glanced up from his work as Gibbs came striding in, curious about his appearance. "Hello Jethro" he greeted. "Your usually impeccable timing is somewhat off today. I have nothing to report as of yet."

"It's not about the case, Ducky. It's about the situation with the team."

Ducky sighed in resignation. It seemed he was destined to play counselor this week, rather than medical examiner. It was well-known that he was particularly close to members of the MCRT. Whether expressing genuine concern over where Anthony had gone and why, or simply seeking fodder for gossip, it seemed most of the building felt he was "in-the-know".

He'd lost count of the sheer number of visitors who'd inquired after Anthony and in jest at one point, had mentioned procuring revolving doors for autopsy. Director Vance had even made a brief appearance to ply him for information, stating "I have a sneaking suspicion you know at least as much of what happens around here as I do, most likely more." Seemingly everyone except the person at the heart of it all had sought him out and now finally, it seemed that had changed.

"Situation?" Ducky queried.

"I don't think Ellis is the right fit for our team," Gibbs began. "I need my team to tow the line, not be a distraction, especially with Vance keeping tabs. Between that and DiNozzo's fan club staring and glaring at me from every corner of the office, it's a circus up there."

"What is your objection to the man?" Ducky asked. "My initial impression was that he seems highly competent and professional."

"We rub each other the wrong way." Gibbs said in a clipped voice. "He's not…" Gibbs paused, not wanting to finish what he was about to say.

"Not what? Not Tony?" Ducky asked, cutting straight to the heart of the matter.

Gibbs grimaced, but didn't answer. That was _exactly_ the problem.

"Jethro, this is a situation entirely of your own making. What did you expect? That everyone in the building would applaud you for your contemptible behavior toward people that don't deserve it?" Ducky asked with a note of censure in his voice.

"You've never had a problem with my behavior before," Gibbs said.

Ducky blinked in disbelief at that little falsehood. "I beg to differ Jethro. Selective memory does not become one of your insight and intelligence. In this specific instance, I warned you months ago to work out your issues with Anthony. Not only were you unable or unwilling to do so, you allowed them to become worse."

"I came down here for a little understanding and maybe some advice from my oldest friend who I thought I could count on," Gibbs replied, feeling more than a little defensive. "I'm not here to get a lecture or to find one more person who thinks I'm to blame for DiNozzo leaving."

"Aren't you?"

"What the hell does that mean?" Gibbs asked, his voice rising as his temper flared. "DiNozzo is his own man. No one made him leave and now I'm being held responsible by everyone from the janitorial staff, to HR to security, and most likely what's left of my team. Don't you think DiNozzo shares a little of the blame? Look at how he left!" Gibbs said angrily.

"Yes, you fully expected to keep figuratively kicking him and he would accept it indefinitely just as he always had before." Ducky admonished. "He surprised you, didn't he? You're finding now that you needed him on your team a lot more than he needed to be here. I for one am gratified he finally realized it and moved on."

Gibbs stared stonily at Ducky, then asked "Anything else you want to throw at me Duck?"

"This situation has you uncharacteristically wrong-footed, Jethro. What did Anthony say to you before he left?"

"That's between me and DiNozzo," Gibbs answered shortly.

"Not to put too fine a point on it Jethro, if it affects the performance of the MCRT, it's not just between you and Anthony. With him gone, you no longer have a convenient target for your misdirected blame and anger, and that is a further frustration for you."

Ducky continued, trying to encourage Gibbs to really talk to him. "You came here for help and advice, Jethro. I'm glad for that, but I can't help you or advise you if you won't be forthcoming with me."

Gibbs said nothing so Ducky continued, prompting gently.

"Anthony may have been a catalyst for recent events but he's not the root cause of what's been troubling you. That is to be found within you Jethro. I suggest you turn your insight and intuition inward if you want things to improve."

Gibbs was unable to hide the annoyance that flitted across his features at the thought of Ducky essentially telling him to go navel-gazing. What was that going to solve? "I'll take it under advisement Ducky," he said in a guarded tone, as he turned and walked away.

Ducky shook his head sadly as he watched Gibbs leave. They'd already failed Anthony in a way. Now Gibbs still seemed unwilling or unable to accept help, leaving him feeling like he was failing one of his oldest friends as well. "Nothing good is going to come of this," he muttered in dismay.

Upstairs in the Director's office, Vance used his workstation to tap into the bullpen security feed. He watched grimly as the earlier scene between Ellis and Gibbs replayed on his monitor in full color. He fervently wished there was audio, but even without sound, the scene appeared every bit as contentious as he'd heard.

Even though he was not happy about Gibbs' apparent difficulty working with Ellis, neither was he surprised. He still felt vindicated in his temporary selection to the SFA spot. While their approach for dealing with Gibbs was different, like DiNozzo before him, Ellis showed himself more than capable of withstanding the man's aggressive and forceful personality.

It was early days yet, but Vance hoped things would smooth out over time. Contrary to what Gibbs believed, he didn't actually want to intervene and knew it was likely Gibbs would fight further "interference". That was no less true now than the days when the team was more insular and close knit. He didn't know what really happened with DiNozzo, but if the problem turned out to be Gibbs, he would be forced to step in before anyone else defected from his premiere team.

Next up: Tony visits DC for the holidays.


	5. Not So Merry and Bright

Chapter 5: Not So Merry and Bright

Tired from his early flight, Tony suppressed a groan as he sank down into one of the overstuffed chairs in Ducky's sitting room. Traveling off-grid left a lot to be desired at times. The task force arranged for him to take a military transport to DC in order to keep both his identities off commercial travel records. He'd just spent hours in a jump seat flying from McChord Air Force Base near Seattle, to Andrews just outside DC and had the aches and pains to prove it. He looked up, smiling as Ducky entered the room. Tony gratefully accepted a cup of steaming hot tea from Ducky.

"Thanks Ducky," he said, "and thanks for putting me up for a couple days."

"After you came all this way, I couldn't see you spending your three days here alone in a hotel for the most part…no thanks to your addled father."

"Aw, Ducky…he's not addled," Tony defended. "I should have known better than to try and surprise him. At least he's coming back for part of the weekend."

"Yes, well, there's that." Ducky conceded. "You shouldn't make excuses for him," Ducky said as he pointed a finger at him. "One would think he'd have discussed his plans with you, or inquired about yours. In any case, I'm more than happy to have you here."

"Sure you don't just want to use me as slave labor for the team dinner tomorrow?" Tony teased.

"I have no idea what you mean, young man." Ducky said with a sly smile. "Speaking of which, I need to get some preparation under way. For now, just relax and I'll enlist your services later."

As Ducky turned to go back to the kitchen, he said "By the way, I would not be surprised if Abigail visits briefly. I let slip to her earlier that you would be here tonight. She is traveling to New Orleans on Christmas Eve and will miss our dinner this year."

Left alone with his thoughts Tony pondered the whirlwind last few months. He could hardly believe over six months had passed since he resigned, pulled up stakes in DC, moved to Seattle and joined the FBI contingent on a joint federal task force for counter terrorism.

He and his teams had done some great work in that time. Although The Calling remained elusive, they'd made significant headway in rooting out several budding terrorist cells and their long-distance handlers overseas. Field work was no less physical as an FBI agent than it had been at NCIS, and he'd received some minor injuries last week while apprehending a suspect. As a result, he'd had some down time enforced on him.

Looking forward to just being Tony DiNozzo again for a short time, he'd decided to use the down time surprise his father with a Christmas visit. He'd called a couple days ago only to find Senior had made other plans and was in New York for the holidays. He suspected that had to do with his father's new lady friend more than anything else. After first chiding him for the short notice trip, Senior had at least somewhat easily agreed to return to DC in time to spend Christmas Day with him.

He'd also wanted to connect with his former team while he was here, so he'd called Ducky first. Workload permitting, he hosted a team dinner every year for those staying in DC and Tony figured he'd know everyone's plans by now.

Once Ducky heard Tony planned to stay in a hotel because his father was away, he'd immediately extended an invite to come to the house and Tony accepted. It looked as though he'd get to see everyone except Gibbs, who had plans with Fornell and Emily tomorrow, and Leyla and Amira on Christmas day. That suited Tony just fine; in fact he was relieved.

A soft chiming from the foyer drew him from his thoughts. "I'll get it Ducky," he called out as he went to answer the door.

Still distracted a bit by his thoughts, he opened the door only to stumble backwards as he was caught off guard by one of Abby's overly-enthusiastic hugs.

"Tonyyyyy!" she called out joyfully. "I'm so glad you came!"

Hiding a wince of pain, he kissed her temple and gently disengaged as he greeted her. "I'm glad I got here before you left Abbs. I've missed you all," he said while grinning broadly at her. They both turned to see Ducky just behind them, smiling as he dried his hands on a towel.

"Come in Abigail, and join us for a cuppa." Ducky offered.

"Thanks Ducky, but I can't stay. I left too much to the last minute and have to do some holiday errands and pack before I fly home. I'll have a few free hours before my flight tomorrow; I was hoping to convince Tony to visit with me for a bit," she said while giving Tony a pleading look.

"Sure Abbs. I'm helping Ducky out early in the day and I won't see dad until Christmas, so I can stop by for a while before I come back here for dinner."

"Awesome!" Abby said bouncing excitedly. "I really do have to run; I'll see you tomorrow Tony?" She asked as she turned to leave.

"Yep, just call or text when you're free." Tony confirmed, waving as he closed the door behind her. He turned to see Ducky giving him a stern look.

"What's wrong?" he asked.

"Young man, don't think I missed your reaction to Abigail's spirited greeting. You have something to share?"

"Uh…stiff from a long time sitting on the plane?" Tony smiled hopefully.

"Hmm. You didn't really expect that to work did you?"

"It's nothing Ducky," he shrugged sheepishly. "Just a poorly executed tackle while apprehending a suspect. Honest, it's nothing serious."

"You'll forgive me if I don't take your word for it," Ducky said while giving him a look that made it plain he wouldn't be put off. "Come along, back to the sitting room with you. I'll take a look while you explain what exactly you've done to yourself now." Ducky scolded.

Some things never change, Tony thought as he meekly followed Ducky into the other room and resigned himself to being poked and prodded.

Tony had been enjoying the afternoon visiting with Abby. He helped her pack and get her luggage to the car, and then they'd moved to the kitchen for a snack. After they'd eaten, Abby became fidgety all of a sudden and Tony was at a loss as to why. He was finally about to ask what was wrong when the apartment doorbell rang.

As he waited in the kitchen, he heard low voices in the entryway. Stiffening as he recognized the other voice, he briefly leaned his head into his hands. "Oh Abby…you didn't," he mumbled to himself. This was exactly what he'd hoped to avoid. Fickle fate, with a lot of help from Abby, had other ideas.

He sighed heavily, and rose to his feet. He entered the room in time to see an apprehensive Abby leading Gibbs by the hand into the living room.

Gibbs stopped in his tracks, surprise flitting across his features before they settled into an expressionless mask. Abby waited nervously, biting her thumbnail while Gibbs and Tony looked at each other impassively for long seconds. Then Tony broke the stalemate. He inclined his head slightly and greeted quietly, "Hey Gibbs."

"DiNozzo," came the curt reply.

Gibbs turned to Abby and handed her a small package wrapped in red foil and black ribbon. He kissed her on the cheek, saying "I'll visit again when you don't have company Abby." As he turned to go, Abby grabbed his hand again and pleaded, "Wait, Gibbs. Don't leave yet!"

He pulled his hand away and put it gently on her shoulder. "Abby…no," he said, shaking his head. He turned to the door, not even sparing a backward glance at Tony, and left without another word.

Tony stood there; feeling stunned at Abby setting them up and by Gibbs' refusal to even remain in the apartment or speak to him. He wasn't sure what he thought would happen when he came into the room to face Gibbs, but that stinging rejection of his very presence wasn't quite what he expected.

Abby glanced down guiltily, unable to meet his eyes.

"Abby, look at me," Tony said in a quiet but firm voice; wanting her to see the betrayal and disappointment he felt. She flinched as she met his eyes. "Why?" he said simply.

"I'm really sorry Tony. Gibbs has been so angry and out of whack since you left and…" Abby's voice trailed off and she seemed unsure how to continue.

"What Abby? What were you trying to accomplish with this stunt?" Tony asked, trying to remain calm.

"I just thought, if I could get you together, you could talk and everything would be OK again!" Abby said; voice rising as her distress grew. "I can't believe he left like that! What did you do to make him that angry?"

"Really, Abby? What makes you so sure it was something I did? I know how you feel about him, and that you have this need to defend him no matter what. Whether _you_ believe so or not, he can be in the wrong…and in this _, he is._ "

Tears fell as Abby closed her brimming eyes. "I know Tony," nodding as she replied softly.

"I get that you had good intentions," he said, "but did you really think he was going to react well to being surprised like that? You can't just throw us in a room together and think things will all work out just because _you_ want it so badly."

"I was trying to help."

"No, you were being selfish Abby. This was about what you want or need." Tony said, not willing to let her slide for her deceit, even if she meant well. "You can't fix everything. Gibbs and I aren't magically going to be friends again and our problems won't be solved by you manipulating the situation."

Tony went on, ignoring the hurt he saw in Abby's expression. "You need to understand something about me and Gibbs. _I_ didn't do anything to him. If he and I ever resolve what went wrong, it's going to be because he has come to terms with what made it happen in the first place. Only he can do that and he's nowhere near ready. Until he _is_ ready, I have no reason to speak with him, and you saw he feels the same way. Nothing you say or do will change any of that, and you need to leave it alone."

Gibbs rushed out of Abby's apartment building; hoping a long, solitary drive might help him feel less like a bomb about to explode. He was furious at Abby and he didn't want to be. It _had_ to have been her bright idea for Tony to be there, since Tony had looked just as off balance at seeing him as Gibbs felt himself. Now he had to recover some equilibrium. He was having dinner with Fornell and Emily later, and didn't want them to see him out of sorts and angry.

He'd come so close to raging at the person he saw as responsible for upending his world and making every day a struggle. There was Ellis; Tony's replacement and constant thorn in his side every minute on the job. Then there was Tony himself. Tony leaving and his parting words dogged him every day. They had him doubting his reasons for doing the job, and questioning things he thought he was sure of about himself but in reality, he was just beginning to see were quite different. Seeing Tony for the first time in months and so unexpectedly had left him struggling and nearly overwhelmed with hostility. He wanted to finally let loose the anger he'd been repressing for months.

Losing it in front of Abby simply wasn't an option, so his only choice was to leave before his control slipped. At times, managing his anger and resentment made him feel like he was sitting in a leaking boat, with the struggle to keep the water out getting harder all the time. It was exhausting and he wondered how much longer he was going to be able to do it.

Tony stood next to Senior drying dishes and handing them over to his father, who put them away neatly. They'd spent the early part of Christmas Day serving holiday meals at the homeless shelter where his father volunteered from time to time, and then gone back to his condo to share a holiday meal themselves. Afterward, they'd begun working in companionable silence clearing leftovers and washing dishes. At least it started out companionable. Now the extended silence was turning uncomfortable as Senior kept giving him awkward glances, his mouth working as if he wanted to say something and then thought better of it.

Trying not let his building frustration show in his voice or expression, he asked, "Dad, is there something on your mind?"

"Honestly yes, a few things Junior." he said while continuing to work; as if not meeting Tony's eyes would make it easier to talk.

Tony scowled a bit at the nickname and answered, mild annoyance creeping into his tone. "Well I've been with you all day Dad, and you know I've got to head back to Ducky's soon to pack. If you wanted a heart-to-heart, now's the time."

"There's no need for sarcasm, son. I just didn't know how to start. I'd like to talk if you're willing."

"Fine Dad. What would you like to talk about?"

"Have you seen Gibbs?"

Somewhat taken aback at the question, Tony replied shortly. "I've seen everyone I need to see, Dad. You, of course. I'm staying with Ducky, I saw Abby yesterday afternoon, and McGee, Bishop, and Palmer at dinner last night. I even met my replacement; guy named Ellis. Nice enough, though I bet _he_ really keeps Gibbs on his toes."

"Not Gibbs?"

Tony sighed and wondered what this was all about. He decided not to mention the very awkward few minutes of seeing Gibbs at Abby's yesterday. "Dad, were you listening back when I told you Gibbs and I aren't on the best of terms?" Tony asked.

"Yes, but I didn't understand it then any more than I do now." he said.

"Dad, we never talked about it before. Why is it important that you need to understand _now_?"

"No. You're right, we didn't talk," he said. "You were apparently having problems at work and with Gibbs for most of a year and never talked about it. Even when it came to a head and you left your home of 15 years' with barely a week's notice, you _still_ didn't talk about it." The implied 'with me' hung heavy in the air. "Even Gibbs said more to me about it than you did." he finished crossly.

"Dad, I explained why I had to leave." Tony said resignedly. "Why are we rehashing this?"

"No, you really didn't explain. All you said was you and Gibbs couldn't work together anymore and you had an opportunity for a better job. You came nowhere near explaining why all of a sudden after 15 years you can't get along with _Gibbs_ of all people, or over your hurt feelings."

Tony looked at his father in disbelief. "Don't trivialize it, Dad." he snapped. "I wouldn't have lasted 15 weeks much less 15 years if I took to heart every shitty thing Gibbs has ever said and done to me. This is about a hell of a lot more than his standard verbal abuse and head slaps and I'm done with all of it. I've moved on and I'm not discussing it with you. Him either for that matter," Tony said emphatically.

Senior shook his head as he looked at Tony, realizing he was serious about not discussing Gibbs. "He's been different since you left. "Harder, angry, and unapproachable." Senior said regretfully. "I think it would do you both good to make amends."

Tony gave his father a wounded look. "You know, I think I liked it better when you two didn't get along," Tony said sourly. "I can't be the one to reach out first this time, because it's not me that's the problem. You really have no idea what's going on here."

"Are you saying something is wrong with Gibbs?"

Tony shook his head in frustration. "First Abby, now you. What is this need to fix Gibbs and me all about? Dad, it's his story to tell more than it is mine. He's always been a man with demons and how he chooses to deal with them is a problem," Tony said. "I haven't talked to you about it because I don't want you to be in the middle of it. There's nothing that can be done by anyone but him. He is going to have to learn to bend a bit if he ever wants to make amends with me, and he's as unbendable as ever."

"Have you _always_ been so secretive, or is this new?" Senior asked, looking at his son with disapproval.

What is _that_ supposed to mean?" Tony asked.

"I came to Washington to be closer to you, son. Believe me, I'm happy and grateful you're here now. We've come so far and now there's distance between us again in more ways than one. Not just because of Gibbs and whatever happened to make you leave NCIS. Why you left when you did, why Seattle of all places, and why you don't want me to visit you there. I won't push you for an explanation that you clearly don't want to give, but I want to be there, part of your life, and now it's _you_ pulling away," Senior said, his voice cracking with emotion.

The small, vindictive part of Tony that remembered his father's many years of indifference and even benign neglect almost made him say something they'd both regret. Instead, he overlooked the irony of his father's words and took the high road yet again.

"Look Dad, Seattle is where the job is based; it's just that simple." he said. "Visiting is tricky because I work long hours and travel a lot on very short notice. The work is sensitive, and I can't discuss it with anyone. Frankly, the level of knowledge and even involvement you had in NCIS cases was highly irregular and even inappropriate. It's _not_ something that will happen with my current employer."

Senior nodded and leaned against the counter; suddenly looking sad, old, and frail. Tony's heart lurched as he searched for something to say to fix this. He turned his father to face him and placed his hands gently on his upper arms. "I'm sorry you feel I'm putting distance between us, Dad. It's not intentional. We'll work it out, ok?"

Tony sighed unhappily as Senior simply answered, "If you say so, son."

A short while later they'd said their goodbyes and Tony left to return to Ducky's home. He couldn't help the maudlin mood and feeling of dejection that swept over him once he'd reached the car. In trying to do the right thing for himself, his friends, and family, he'd caused the rift between him and his father to grow again. And as long as The Calling was out there somewhere, perhaps even looking for him, there was little he could do to change it.

Tony and Ducky were relaxing in front of the fireplace as the last hours of Christmas Day ticked away. Ducky appraised his friend as he sipped his brandy, noting Tony's somber demeanor upon his return from spending the day with his father had persisted.

"Anthony," he began, "are you ready to talk about what has you so preoccupied?"

"I'm fine, Ducky" Tony said absently.

"I doubt it, young man. Would you care to try again?"

Tony chuckled softly at Ducky's persistence. "Well, let's just say this visit hasn't exactly gone as expected," he replied.

"Ah. Something with your father?" he queried.

"Abby and even Dad have it in their heads somehow that I'm to partly blame for what's going on with Gibbs," he explained. "In their own ways they're determined to "fix" it without regard for my say in the matter. I expected it from Abby, but hearing Dad defending Gibbs to me was…disappointing."

And hurtful I'm sure, Ducky thought to himself. "Fools, both of them." Ducky huffed. He'd been incensed when Anthony relayed Abigail's deceitful manipulation of the previous day. With Gibbs's unpredictability of late, that was extremely poor judgment on her part and could well result in some form of fallout.

"I certainly hope you aren't blaming yourself for his continuing erratic behavior." Ducky said firmly. "You simply represent an obvious answer that allows them to avoid looking deeper and to deny that Jethro holds any blame."

Tony tried to sort through his complex feelings when it came to Gibbs and this whole cluster of a situation. "I _do_ feel like it's all turned around to be my fault. It feels like everyone is choosing sides. I never wanted that. I thought if I left, it would help steady Gibbs and it hasn't. Now, Dad feels like I'm intentionally distancing myself from him and on top of that, I have to let everyone think leaving is what I _really_ wanted." he said plaintively.

"Isn't it? You are having regrets?"

"About leaving NCIS? No. That part _is_ what I wanted. I needed a new challenge…I was stagnating professionally and you know why I needed away from Gibbs. Something had to give there, and I knew it wasn't going to be him. I didn't necessarily want to leave DC…there were other factors to consider. I _had_ to leave and I thought it was for the best. I still do and I have my reasons."

Ducky's gaze sharpened. "You _had_ to leave? Why would you say it like that?"

Tony remained silent, seemingly struggling with what to say. Or what _not_ say, Ducky suspected.

Wanting to help ease some of the conflict his friend clearly felt, he pressed for an answer. "You can confide in me my boy, I won't disclose anything you don't want the others to know," he assured him.

Tony closed his eyes and took a calming breath. "There's so much, and I can only tell you some of it," he replied seriously. "Even that much is only because you're my medical proxy and secondary next of kin. I insisted on being allowed to make you aware of some things in case they need to contact you."

Ducky listened intently as Tony went on to describe in generic terms his work on the task force and the necessity of working and traveling under an assumed identity; perhaps even more than one. Omitting any specific mention of Joanna or The Calling, Tony revealed there was a fair chance he could be targeted by some of groups they were investigating and he didn't want anyone he knew in the line of fire.

Much later, after Anthony's return to Seattle, Ducky would spend a great deal of time contemplating both what he'd been told, and what might have been withheld. Gibbs' anger and resentment toward the younger man was truly a sad irony. So was the blame for Gibbs' downward spiral that some were all too willing to lay at his feet. It was a terrible shame they were all so unaware of the quiet nobility of Anthony's actions, and just how much he'd sacrificed on their behalf. He earnestly hoped those truths could come to light eventually.

Next up: A check in with Tony and Joanna.


	6. Bleak

Author's Notes:

Just to hopefully prevent any confusion - if you recall from chapter 3, Tony is working under an alternate identity. In this chapter, you'll see Joanna and Tony's team members refer to him as "Nick" in their dialogue. Where Tony and Joanna are having inner dialogue, they'll think of him as "Tony".

The name used in this story for the terrorist group 'Asian Dawn' is fictional. I didn't originate it though; it's a nod to a favorite action movie. Virtual cookies and brownies for any one who guesses the movie without googling it. No cheating :)

Chapter 6: Bleak

Tony pulled a large duffle out of his closet and tossed it on the bed, then walked over to the large windows and opened the blinds. He should be packing, but was indulging his dark mood by putting it off. He and his team would be leaving for Portland in a few hours to follow up a lead on a terrorist cell operating there. Tony stood in front of the window in his bedroom looking out over the Seattle skyline. He loved the views from the windows in his apartment, but today the view was bleak and grey. It seemed to fit his mood, which more often than not lately was also dark and dreary when home alone. He should probably arrange to talk to someone soon; these little bouts of depression seemed to come more and more frequently.

He loved his job and his work. That wasn't the problem. He had a fine team. Just like his team at NCIS, his field team was made up of four members including himself. The similarities ended there since they weren't all from the same agency; his team was a hybrid of members from other agencies.

Gary Walker was an ATF agent and the team's weapons and ballistics expert. He was blond, blue-eyed, and had a sort of all-American look about him. He was a few years younger than Tony and in spite of being a bit of a hothead, they got on quite well. He seemed to look to Tony as a mentor and steadying influence. It felt a bit strange filling that role for someone else that Gibbs had once filled for him. Gary was outgoing and they both enjoyed sports. They'd bonded over beers and a love of college football.

Elena Duarte, or 'Lena' as they called her, was CIA. Of Mexican descent, her dark, smoldering looks reminded him a lot of Zoe. She had excellent instincts, was cool in the field, and damned brilliant to boot. She made him think of McGee in that respect. She held a doctorate in computer forensics and at times, he mused that he'd pay money to see her in a hacking contest with Tim. The only married member of the team, she had a bit of mother hen about her. On account of the long strange hours they kept, she was constantly bringing the other team members dishes of her delicious, traditional Sonoran cooking.

Matt Carson, the oldest member of the team, was from Homeland Security. He was even tempered and a crack shot. Matt had contacts everywhere among the big federal agencies, Department of Defense, and even the NSA. His forte was information and resources; if the team needed it, he could get it. He complimented Tony's investigative contributions to the team perfectly and they'd hit it off right away. Matt was a physical fitness nut and they routinely jogged and worked out together. They lived in the same building, which made it easy to meet up. He also dragged Tony out for trail bike riding in the woods and hills around Seattle, something Tony learned to enjoy enough that he'd sought Matt's advice on a bike purchase.

Yes, they were good people and he liked them all. That was the problem. He just couldn't get too close and it was getting harder to keep them at arm's length. He wanted to get to know these people even better and for them to get to know him too. It wasn't possible and it frustrated him to no end. The damn alternate identity he'd allowed Joanna to talk him into. It prevented him from having a normal life here in Seattle and it was beginning to grate badly.

He hadn't dated anyone more than once since moving here and life was getting damn lonely over the last 10 months. After what he'd been through with Jeanne, he was _never_ doing that again. No, it was bad enough when the truth about his identity came out, the team that he'd come to respect and regard would view him as a liar just like Jeanne had.

He was naturally a social person and this 'alias' situation was becoming almost insufferable. It had left him with virtually no friends, unable to date, or have easy communication with his friends and father back in DC. His father was barely speaking to him and at times he felt like Ducky was his only friend in the world, as he was the only one of his former coworkers that he spoke to frequently. Something had to give and soon.

Two days later, at dusk on a bitterly cold evening, Tony and his team sat in their SUV at the edge of a rural property outside Portland, Oregon. The terrorist group Asian Dawn had established a presence here and their members had been conducting cyber attacks on various infrastructure targets in the western US. Tony and the task force had already rooted out their cells in LA, Sacramento, and Tacoma over the last few months, and apprehended their members…or most of them rather. The group in this area seemed to be particularly adept at evading the task force.

They'd donned their tac gear and were waiting for the order to move in from Joanna and her team. They were on the opposite side of the property and they had the better view of the house from their position. Tony briefly looked over his team to ensure they were ready to go. As he met their eyes, they each nodded back in turn to indicate their readiness.

A burst of static from the radio pulled his attention away from his team. "Nick," called Joanna, "we're in position. A light came on in the front room a few minutes ago, otherwise the house is dark and quiet. Go in five."

"Copy, go in five." Tony confirmed, looking at his watch. Although he wore his new identity easily, as if it were a second skin, it still sounded strange after all this time hearing Joanna use his phony name. Shaking off those negative thoughts, he said "Let's go people," and exited the SUV. He zipped his jacket against the bitter cold and checked his weapon once more. "OK, move in. Stay sharp." Weapons drawn, Tony and his team moved stealthily toward the house.

As they approached, Tony could just make out Joanna and her team in the gloom, moving around the back of the house.

They reached the front of the large, ranch style home and took their positions. Tony heard the radio click twice, their pre-arranged signal for 'go when ready'. "Federal agents!" he shouted nodding to Gary, who kicked in the door.

They swept inside and switched on their maglites as they searched darkened rooms. He could see and hear Joanna's team doing the same. Calls of 'clear' chimed out from various rooms, and it became frustratingly obvious the house was abandoned and empty.

"Dammit," Tony swore softly as he looked around at mostly empty rooms strewn with trash.

"Who the hell turned the light on?" Matt grumbled.

Tony leaned over the one lamp providing light to the room. He peered at the outlet and sighed. "Hey," he called out to Gary and Matt. As they looked over he pointed at the timer the lamp was plugged into. "Looks like they wanted us to think someone was home," Tony said.

Gary cursed under his breath and kicked some debris, sending it clattering across the room.

"Easy Gary," Tony soothed.

"Nick, there's nothing here!" Gary said angrily. "These guys knew we were coming. _Again_. And it's pissing me off!"

"I know." Tony replied calmly. "Trust me, when we get back to Seattle we are going through everything with a fine toothed comb until we figure this out."

"Nick," Lena called from another room, "we've got a body!"

"Be right there," Tony called back. "Gary, bring the truck up and get our gear. Start getting photos and bag & tag everything whether it looks relevant or not." Tony ordered. "They may have left behind something we can work with besides a body. "We'll be back out to help in a few." Tony said as Gary nodded. "Matt, with me."

Tony and Matt headed to the room next door, where they could hear Lena and Joanna talking. The smell of death hit them right away as they entered the room, but it wasn't as bad as it could have been due to the cold. Joanna and Lena were crouching in the corner over what looked like a pile of rags and discarded bedding on the floor.

At Tony's questioning eyebrow, Lena moved aside and pointed to a grey hand protruding from the pile of cloth.

Turning to his partner, he said "Matt, get the local LEOs up here and coordinate with their medical examiner. I want the body transferred to the ME at the FBI office in Seattle." he said as Matt pulled out his phone. "I want to know everything there is to know about this body. Any lab work goes to them too."

"Right Nick," Matt replied, heading out of the room to make the calls.

Tony and Joanna's teams worked in concert for the next several hours. Finally, the body had been transported, scene documented, and evidence gathered. As the teams were packing their gear back into the trucks, Tony called Joanna aside.

"I know what you're going to say, Nick," Joanna began. "You're right."

"Good," Tony said caustically. "I'm glad we're on the same page Joanna, because this run of bad intel isn't a coincidence. When we get back, we need to meet up with the analysts and pin down this problem of who's feeding us the bad information once and for all."

After two weeks of pouring over task force intelligence data gathered on Asian Dawn; double and triple checking all their sources and informants, they'd narrowed down the potential sources of bad information a couple dozen. Surprisingly, it was the body found in the Portland house that gave them the lead they needed.

Tony and Joanna sat in the conference room reviewing the day's reports and awaiting the intel analyst assigned to Tony's team, Melanie Davies. She'd worked with the other analysts to compile a profile of the dead man once he'd been identified during the autopsy, and was ready to report their findings.

A soft tapping sounded, then the door opened and a petite blond peeked in. Tony smiled and waved her in, "Have a seat, Mel. We're ready for you."

Melanie came in, files in hand, and took a seat at the table.

"What have you got for us?" Joanna asked.

We have a fairly full profile for the dead man, including his recent activities and known associates. He was a Chinese national linked to four CIA informants, all of whom were located in Hong Kong. We believe he may have been a source of information for those informants.

"If that's the case, its a possible explanation for his murder." Joanna surmised. "They're clearly onto us and him being left in that house could well have been a message," Joanna asserted.

"So was he the source of the faulty intel, or was it one of the others?" Tony asked.

"Without interviewing the other four informants again, we have no way to know for sure." Mel said. "There's also another irregularity you should know about." Based on what was logged in by the CIA field operatives in Hong Kong, and what we received here, there are some odd pauses in the interview transcripts.

"Did we go back and ask about it?" Tony queried.

"Absolutely Nick," Mel replied emphatically. "We tracked down the original recordings on their end down. The recordings they retained have missing time which explains the odd pauses in the written transcripts. I suggest we talk to the interpreters to see if there's a plausible explanation, such as a technical difficulty," she said.

"Anything else?" Joanna asked.

"No, that's the gist of it. I'll just leave the files in case you'd like to go over the finer details," Mel said, pushing the file across the table to Tony.

"Thanks Mel," Tony said with a smile as she rose to leave.

Once she left the room, Joanna turned to Tony. "So Nick," she asked. "Thoughts?"

"Road trip," Tony replied with a broad grin.

"You sure?" Joanna asked. "We could do all the interviews from the comm center here."

"No," Tony replied, serious again. "Every bit of faulty intel we've been fed has come from that small group and we have the missing time in the transcripts to consider," he asserted. "We don't know if it's the informants, the CIA officers, or a combination of both. It could even be something as simple as translation inaccuracies, or as Mel said, technical issues. I want to talk to and assess them all, and I _don't_ want them to know it's coming."

"Not very trusting are you?" Joanna smirked, not the least insulted by Tony's mistrust of her operatives and informants in Hong Kong.

"I've learned not to be," came Tony's brusque reply. "It seems to be working out a lot better for me."

"Alright, we'll go," Joanna said, nodding in agreement. He'd made some fair points and she was happy to defer to Tony's judgement and instincts in this situation.

After a busy and frustrating few days in Hong Kong during which they'd made little headway, Tony had his suspicions as to where the problem lay and knew he was baffling Joanna by keeping them to himself for the time being. He first wanted the complete big picture of how they were gathering intel in this area, where Asian Dawn based their operations. To do that, they needed to finish meeting informants and the process of observing some of their collection interviews. He and Joanna were on their way to the last one now.

Joanna was stumped. They'd made little headway and she was not highly confident this last meeting would prove enlightening. She'd met with this particular informant before multiple times and felt he always provided credible information. If that were still true, then it meant they weren't much closer to finding the source of the inaccurate intel than when they arrived. It was obvious to her that Tony seemed to have some ideas on that, but so far had chosen keep them to himself, much to her chagrin. "We're here," Joanna said as the taxi driven by one of Joanna's operatives pulled into a narrow alley behind a row of restaurants.

Tony followed as Joanna led the way into a restaurant's back door and through the kitchen to a private dining room. Two Asian men stood, nodding at Joanna and looking at Tony questioningly. The man Tony pegged as the informant spoke in rapid Mandarin, looking a bit frightened as he did so. The interpreter simply looked irritated at Tony's presence.

"This is Nick," Joanna said, gesturing at Tony as she spoke. Tony nodded at the men without speaking then took out his phone. He called up a video game and took a seat in the corner of the room, slouching and giving every appearance of disinterest in the meeting. "Nick is a member of our security staff," Joanna lied smoothly. He's here to serve as bodyguard for a later meeting and won't be part of this conversation. The interpreter relayed Joanna's comment and after another glance at the seemingly indifferent man in the corner, they both appeared mollified and took a seat at the table.

Tony remained intent on the conversation and watched covertly as Joanna went through the motions with the informant and interpreter. By the end of the meeting, he knew exactly where their intelligence problem was coming from.

Tony had been grim and silent on their way back to the Hong Kong field office, and now Joanna knew why. She hadn't pressed him immediately after the meeting, sensing he wanted to wait to speak until they were back in a secure location where their conversation could not be overheard.

The first thing he'd said once the door closed behind them was "You personally recorded that meeting as I asked?"

"Yes, of course. Why?"

"Well," Tony said drily, "We're going to need a new interpreter. Once we get your recording transcribed, and compare it to the recording he provided, you'll see why."

"I knew that continuing your Mandarin language training would serve us well," Joanna replied with a sly smile. "You're actually more fluent than I am now…tell me what you heard."

"When he was translating back to English for you, he left out information. He also reported a number of things inaccurately." Tony said "Even worse, he paused his recorder at critical points in the interview. I'm betting that accounts for the odd pauses Mel mentioned showing up in the other transcripts. I'm guessing no one is double checking our interpreters, and he's been counting on that."

Joanna nodded, considering what to do next. "That's easily corrected. Are you thinking what I'm thinking about this guy?" she asked.

"Oh yeah," Tony said, an edge of anger coloring his tone. "This guy is connected to Asian Dawn. He's either part of the group or being paid by them to throw us off. In any case, we find out everything there is to know about him," Tony said, giving her a calculating look. "He's mostly likely the lead we needed to bring down the cell in Portland."

Next up: Gibbs and that wall. Irresistible force meets immovable object. This is one meeting that isn't going to go well.


	7. Fallout

Chapter 7: Fallout

Gibbs parked the sedan two buildings down from the duplex where their suspected had been sighted earlier. Knowing their suspect Sgt. Powell was possibly armed, the team approached the building cautiously.

Once there, Gibbs issued instructions to his team. "Ellis, you and McGee take the front, Bishop and I will take the back. We'll wait for your signal."

Ellis nodded and smirked at being partnered with McGee again. Gibbs avoided partnering with him in the field as much as possible, instead preferring Bishop or McGee. Whatever makes him easier to live with, Ellis thought to himself as he and McGee moved into position either side of the front door. He gave a few extra seconds to be sure Gibbs and Bishop had time to get into positions themselves, and then called out to the occupants inside.

Gibbs and Bishop circled around, drew their weapons and took positions one on each side of the back door, waiting for Ellis and McGee to signal.

He heard Ellis call out, identifying himself and ordering their suspect out. There was a moment of silence then the sound of running steps. Instead of coming out the back door as expected, Powell came crashing through a window at the side of the building and took off down the alley. "Ellis! Back alley!" he shouted toward the apartment as he and Bishop ran down the back steps in pursuit.

Gibbs cursed and nearly went down as his bad knee twinged hard going down the steps. He found his stride and noticed Bishop pulling too far ahead. "Bishop!" he yelled. She disappeared around the corner of the building and he ran harder to catch up, limping a bit as his knee protested the burst of speed.

Gibbs turned the corner and skidded to a stop; shocked at the scene before him. Bishop lay crumpled in the alley, blood streaming from her forehead and beginning to pool on the ground. Sgt. Powell stood over her, arm raised as if to strike.

Something broke inside Gibbs in that instant. He was suddenly overwhelmed by memories of all the times he'd felt powerless…watching in MTAC as the Cape Fear exploded, being unable to catch Harper Dearing in time to prevent the NCIS bombing, facing down Luke Harris as the boy shot him twice and left him bleeding in the dirt. A floodgate opened in his mind, releasing images of all the times he'd seen someone he cared about dead or dying, broken and bleeding, and been powerless to prevent it. Tony drowning in his lungs, Kate on the rooftop with blood spreading under her head in a grotesque halo, Jenny's bullet-riddled body, Mike stabbed and left to die in the rain-flooded street in front of his home…and so many more. There were far too many; going all the way back to his beautiful girls. While he'd never actually seen their bodies, he'd seen the case file and photos. His mind had no trouble supplying him with gruesome images of his girls in the wrecked car. Those images, along with all the others left him feeling helpless and full of rage. It was an all-encompassing fury that must finally have an outlet.

Unable to hear anything beyond the roaring in his ears, Gibbs gave an inarticulate cry and launched himself at Powell, feeling a searing pain in his knee as he surged forward. He tackled the man, catching him off guard. He took him down to the asphalt and rained down blow after blow, continuing even after the man stopped struggling.

He could hear something beyond the roaring now, and someone was pulling at one of his arms. He struggled as he was pulled away from the target of his rage, a voice buzzing in his ear. The voice got louder and clearer as Gibbs fought to get back to the nearly unconscious suspect.

While McGee knelt next to Bishop, Ellis bodily hauled Gibbs away from Powell, shouting in his ear and hoping for a response. "Gibbs goddammit! Snap out of it before I have to cuff you!"

As if a switch was thrown, the world came into focus for Gibbs again. He sat panting and suddenly exhausted as Ellis watched him warily.

"You back with it Gibbs?" Ellis asked.

"Yeah," Gibbs replied, as he watched McGee check Bishop.

"Her pulse is strong and regular. I don't see any other injuries but a big cut and bruise on her forehead," McGee reported. Scooting over, he cuffed and began to check Powell as he pulled out his cell and called for two ambulances.

"What the hell happened?" Ellis asked, keeping a hand on Gibbs shoulder as if to make certain he wasn't going to go for Powell again.

"I…I'm not sure," Gibbs said, uncharacteristically hesitant. "She got ahead of me; I came around the corner and she was down." Gibbs said, eyes focused on Bishop's unmoving form and rubbing his knee absentmindedly.

"Are you hurt, Gibbs?" Ellis asked, noticing Gibbs' pale face and clammy skin.

"No, uh...j-just my knee," Gibbs stuttered, beginning to tremble a little as shock set in.

"All right, just relax," Ellis said soothingly, recognizing something was off with Gibbs. "McGee, go wait for the EMTs. Let 'em know we'll want to transport Gibbs too; he's showing signs of shock in addition to the knee injury. I'll notify the Director."

"Right," McGee responded. He eyed Gibbs worriedly for a moment before jogging out of the alley toward the street.

Gibbs sat on the gurney in the ER, his emotions in turmoil. He was worried about Bishop and waiting for word on her condition. He also felt shock and confusion over his earlier loss of control. Pulled from his thoughts as the cubicle curtain was pulled aside, Gibbs looked up in anticipation of the doctor only to be disappointed as Director Vance walked in. "Leon," he greeted.

"First things first. Bishop is awake and will be fine…minor concussion from being knocked into the wall by Powell. What's your status?" Vance queried.

Gibbs closed his eyes and sighed in relief that Bishop was not seriously injured. "Waiting for a scan; may have re-injured my knee." Gibbs hedged, not wanting to admit the knee had been bothering him before.

"Report, Gibbs. What the hell happened out there?" Vance asked sharply.

"I honestly don't know, Leon"

"I suggest you come up with an explanation fast, Gibbs. Internal Affairs will be investigating the use of excessive force.

"I figured," Gibbs said glibly.

"You better be taking this seriously, Gibbs. I've been warning you for months not to force me to make changes or intervene in how you run your team. You've made a hell of a mess here Gibbs, and there's only so much I'm able to do to deflect it."

"What exactly does that mean, Leon?"

"Dammit Gibbs! You beat an unarmed suspect so badly he's in ICU and two agents are injured! What did you think was going to happen?" Vance shouted. "Not only will you be investigated, your entire team is under scrutiny and I am too! This isn't going to go like the Bodnar situation did." Vance asserted. "I have no idea how this will play out, but I do know one thing. This time there will be ramifications for your actions…possibly not just yours."

Gibbs adjusted his crutches and hobbled out of the elevator. It had taken a week, but Internal Affairs had completed their review of the incident that landed him, Bishop, and a suspect in the hospital. He was still on medical leave but agreed to come in to discuss IA's findings with Vance. He supposed now he had to sit there and take it as the Director handed down some sort of reprimand. As he approached the office, Vance's secretary called to him, "Go on in Agent Gibbs, he's expecting you."

Gibbs nodded his thanks to her and shuffled into the office on his crutches, awkwardly closing the door behind him. He and Vance eyed each other for a few tense moments, then Vance gestured toward the comfortable chairs at the conference table, out of deference to Gibbs' braced knee.

Irritated, Gibbs fired his opening salvo. "Nice day, Director."

"You know damn well you're not here for small talk, Gibbs," Vance fired right back. "You're here so I can inform you of the results of the IA investigation and review the actions to be taken."

Without giving Gibbs a chance to respond, he continued, "IA has ruled that you acted with unjustified excessive force in apprehending the suspect last week. Additionally, they have found that your suitability for field duty at the time was questionable due to a pre-existing knee injury and your physical limitations contributed to the injury of a fellow agent." he concluded.

Gibbs managed to suppress a flinch at being reminded of Bishop's injury, which he now recognized as a trigger for his loss of control. "Fine, Director. If you've got some sort disciplinary letter or reprimand for me to sign off on, can we get on with it?"

Vance blinked in disbelief at Gibbs' disinterest and arrogance. He was apparently unwilling to give weight to the seriousness of his circumstances. That was about to change, Vance thought dismally.

"I don't appreciate the flippancy, Gibbs. I told you to take this seriously." Vance said sharply. "The agency is likely going to be sued over this, which by the way, has gotten the attention of SecNav. With the initial findings of IA, I'm forced into a position of taking punitive action against you."

"You're caving because of SecNav and threats from a bunch of shark lawyers?" Gibbs asked scornfully.

"No, I'm not," Vance replied emphatically. "I'm acting as your superior. You are being disciplined for gross violations of a suspect's rights and agency procedure. There's no possibility of completely excusing what you did, nor can I condone it or pretend it didn't happen."

Gibbs at least had the good grace to wince and look down.

"It's not all bad news," Vance continued cautiously. "IA also found that there are factors that require further consideration. Information has come to light that may be accepted as medically mitigating circumstances." Gibbs finally seemed to be paying attention, Vance noticed.

"What would that be?" Gibbs asked in confusion.

"Doctor Mallard has prepared a report which predates the incident." Vance explained. "It expresses concern for your fitness for duty and indicates you are presenting possible signs of PTSD. IA's review of statements from your team corroborate his findings."

"What?" Gibbs snarled, feeling betrayed by his oldest friend, and his team.

"Don't even start on them, Gibbs," Vance snapped in a raised voice, heading off his agent's building rant. "Gibbs, you should thank your team and Doctor Mallard for their depositions. You should also be grateful for Doctor Mallard's influence with IA, because its the only thing saving your ass from being fired immediately." he said flatly. "You better be thankful for all of them, because I'm well aware how poorly you've handled things since DiNozzo left. They're all more loyal than you deserve."

"Points taken, Leon," Gibbs replied, his anger deflated as how close he'd come to being terminated began to hit home. "So what's next?" he asked in a resigned voice.

"As things stand, I've persuaded IA to hold off on a disciplinary hearing or further punitive action until you under go a complete fit for duty examination including a full psych eval. As a condition of continued employment, you will undergo anger management counseling and any other treatment recommended by the evaluator."

Gibbs grimaced and nodded. "Anything else?"

"Yes there's more," Vance said then hesitated, knowing he was about to deliver a heavy blow to the older man. "Taking into account your past performance record which is for the most part exemplary, and that there are no previous complaints of excessive force, you are suspended for one month. Furthermore, you are removed from field duty pending the outcome of your fit for duty evaluation. If found fit, you will be reinstated and reassigned to another position." Vance knew his next words would be devastating to the proud man in front of him. He continued in a sympathetic tone, "Gibbs…your age waiver for field agent status is rescinded. Permanently. I'm sorry."

Later that night, Gibbs sat on his sofa and stared into the fireplace. He could admit now he'd been struggling with feelings of irrational anger and resentment since the shooting that nearly killed him. He'd continually chosen to deal in denial knowing he had issues, and not to examine the reasons for them or to face them until he absolutely had to.

Ever since running into DiNozzo at Abby's a couple months ago on Christmas Eve, he'd been troubled constantly by the memory of the younger man confronting him in his own basement after his resignation, calling him on those very issues. Since that afternoon, those feelings of resentment and anger had been constantly simmering just below the surface, along with fear and helplessness.

Now finally, he recognized them for what they were and that he had to confront the reasons for them if he wanted his life back to normal. He thought about those who'd tried to help him before it was too late, two men in particular. He felt a sudden wave of remorse over the complete break in his once unshakable friendship with DiNozzo, and his starring role in that break. He also regretted the coolness that had developed lately between him and Ducky.

Now he could admit to himself that felt the loss of those friendships keenly, but knew he'd driven the wedge between them himself. He pushed them away and still they'd tried to warn him. He hadn't listened to either of them and today, the consequences of his actions then and now just became appallingly real.

Next up: McGee asks a question and gets an unexpected answer.


	8. No Good News

Chapter 8: No Good News...

Ellis glanced up as McGee strode into the bullpen. He watched as the newly minted SFA dropped his pack behind the desk, sat down with a perturbed sigh and began working. Gibbs was faced with a rapidly approaching deadline to accept the terms of his continued employment and begin therapy. Not only was he ignoring those terms, he was stubbornly refusing visits and phone calls from his former team as well as Director Vance.

McGee and Bishop had come to him, asking for time to visit Gibbs to make an effort at getting him to come around. He'd readily agreed, recognizing that the request indicated a once very insular team was working to accept him as their new Team Lead and trying to keep him in the loop. He also appreciated their loyalty to Gibbs and hoped accommodating the requests would be a step toward making them more comfortable with him as well as the new team dynamic.

One by one they'd all tried and been angrily rebuffed. Abby, Palmer, and Ducky had been turned away. They'd even had Tobias Fornell try. Bishop and Ducky, the last two to visit, had been met with locked doors. At first, he didn't understand the significance of this until McGee assured him that in 15 years of working with Gibbs, he'd never known the man to lock a single door in his house. McGee had made a final attempt at getting through to Gibbs this morning.

"So, how did it go?" Ellis asked.

"Well, I at least got a verbal response this time, even if I wouldn't call it a breakthrough," he said acerbically.

Ellis figured the attitude wasn't directed at him, so he just raised an inquiring eyebrow and waited for McGee to continue.

McGee had been walking around the house trying the other doors when his cell rang. He'd been briefly surprised and hopeful when he saw it was Gibbs calling him. His hopes fell as Gibbs said tersely, "Are you trying to get yourself shot, McGee? The doors are locked for a reason." Then the connection had abruptly ended.

Ellis looked up sharply as McGee relayed that last part. "He threatened you?"

"Nah," McGee said, shaking his head and appearing totally unconcerned. "He's just being a jackass."

Ellis had his own suspicions about what was going on with Gibbs and wasn't so certain of his stability, but willing to accept McGee's assessment for now. "So that's it then, you've all done what you can. We just wait and hope he gets with the program."

"Well," McGee began thoughtfully, "there's one last thing to try." He fumbled for his cell and began scrolling through his contacts. "I need to make a personal call," he said looking to Ellis for permission.

Ellis nodded, watching curiously as McGee headed for the empty conference room to make his call. If whatever McGee had in mind didn't work, he just might throw his own hat into the ring and see if someone outside Gibbs' tight little circle might be able to make some headway.

***********************

Tony jerked awake and looked around the hotel room. Disoriented, he tried to identify the noise that roused him. Then it came again, a soft noise from his backpack. He climbed from the bed and moved to the table where the pack sat open, the ringing phone inside casting a faint glow into the darkened room.

The untraceable burn phone he used to keep in contact with a very select few people in DC was chirping for attention. It could only be his father, Ducky, or McGee and he wondered which would be trying to contact him out of the blue. Suddenly apprehensive without understanding why, he entered the pass code and saw the incoming number. McGee was calling him and it immediately brought to mind the expression about no good news ever coming in the middle of the night.

Tony sat down wearily and answered the call. "Yeah," he said with a yawn.

"Tony…is that you?" came McGee's voice.

"Yeah Tim…I'm half asleep but here.

"Asleep?" McGee asked, sounding mildly surprised. "It's after lunchtime on the west coast. You're working nights these days?"

"It would be after lunchtime if I were on the west coast. Its 3AM where I am so..."

"Oh. What are you doing overseas?" McGee asked, apparently missing the implication that he'd woken Tony up.

Hoping McGee would get to the point, he urged curtly, "Tim. I'm tired and have to work in a few hours. What's up?"

"OK jeez, cranky. Something's happened I thought you should know."

Tony scrubbed his hands over his face. He was wide awake now and his stomach was churning. Taking a deep breath, he asked "What's happened? Is everyone OK?"

"Bishop got hurt a couple weeks ago while trying to apprehend a suspect."

Tony's heart raced a bit as worry brought on a sudden adrenaline rush. "Is she alright?" he asked.

"Yeah. She has a concussion, but will be fine."

Tony breathed a relieved sigh. It didn't sound that serious, so something else had to be on McGee's mind, prompting him to make contact like this. "Good, tell her I'm glad she's OK. So this was a couple weeks ago and you're just now calling. What else has happened?"

McGee smiled wistfully at his friends' intuition. Of course Tony would suspect there was more going on than that. "It's Gibbs," he answered. "He lost it at the scene. Attacked the suspect, beat the living crap out of him. If Ellis and I hadn't got there when we did, he might have gone too far."

Tony sucked in a shocked breath. "Oh man, you're _kidding_. Is Gibbs OK? What did Vance do?"

"Gibbs re-injured his knee, though I'm pretty sure it was bothering him before. He's on medical leave again and Vance suspended him for a month."

Tony shook his head in dismay. Gibbs had been working in the field again while his knee was acting up, and managing to hide it. "Vance probably had no choice about that, I would think."

"No, not much," McGee replied. There's a pending lawsuit and SecNav is breathing down his neck. That's not all, though."

What a mess, Tony thought. Gibbs' physical and emotional issues seemed to have manifested in the worst possible way, causing him to lose control in an already dangerous situation in the field. He wondered what McGee was holding back. "What do you mean, that's not all?"

McGee hesitated, and then dropped a bombshell. "He's lost field agent status…for good."

Well damn. Tony sat back, reeling in shock. He knew full well what a blow this would be to Gibbs. In spite of himself, guilt and a feeling almost like despair rose up, both at Gibbs' circumstances and his failure to get through that night in the basement. He knew better than to feel this way, and was annoyed at his own conflicted emotions. He carried a good deal of suppressed anger at Gibbs and that warred with the underlying affection he still held for the man, in spite of how he'd been treated. Unlike Gibbs though, he'd been talking to someone; trying to come to terms with the events of the last year and the occasional bouts of depression he suffered since taking on an alias.

Gibbs must have really done a number on the suspect, and himself. He wouldn't have thought Vance would take disciplinary action that far. He never had before, even when it was more than warranted. Apparently, nothing he or Ducky ever said to Gibbs in the way of warnings had made the slightest difference in the path he'd chosen.

Tim's voice pulled him from his reverie.

"Tony? You still there?"

"Yeah Tim, I'm here…just pretty shocked I guess."

"I have to ask Tony, did you know something about Gibbs that we didn't? That something like this could happen?"

Tony resented the implication he knew something like this could happen and he'd not only done nothing to prevent it, he'd left the team with no warning. His voice was cool as he answered, "You've got eyes and ears Tim, you and everyone else. What exactly do you think I knew that you couldn't have seen too?"

"Hey, it was you who told me to watch Gibbs carefully." McGee shot back, his tone vaguely accusing. He thought back to the night before Tony left D.C., when he'd offered that veiled warning to keep a close watch on Gibbs. In retrospect, he couldn't help but wonder if Tony could have done something more.

Oh hell no, Tony thought. None of this is on me. He answered, while trying to keep his budding anger in check. "Do I detect a blame game here? I told you and Ducky both the same thing, so maybe you should be asking yourselves what _you_ missed in the ten months after I left."

Tony fought to keep his frustration in check. Becoming angry at McGee, or Ducky for that matter, was no more appropriate in this situation than what McGee was implying. He closed his eyes and took a breath to calm himself before continuing.

"Do you really think I didn't try to help Gibbs? Tony asked quietly, his frustration fading to resignation. "Before I left, I did my best to get Gibbs to open his eyes to this possibility. It wasn't something he was ready to hear and only made things worse between us. We haven't spoken since. _That's_ where trying to help Gibbs got me, Tim."

"No, I don't think that," McGee admitted. "I'm sorry Tony. I just can't help but think this could have been prevented."

"It _could_ have been if only Gibbs had been willing to listen to anyone who gave a damn about him," he said angrily. "I had no proof that he wasn't fit for field duty. I was supposed to torpedo his career with NCIS on my way out the door because of a suspicion?"

"No, you wouldn't have done that. Things are a mess now though. Ellis is in charge for now, but we don't know what will happen with the team. Gibbs is shut up in his house, with doors _locked_ for pete's sake. He won't see or talk to anyone, and is _really_ ticked at Ducky. Apparently he submitted a report not long before the incident questioning Gibbs' fitness for duty. It's the only thing that kept Gibbs from being fired outright. He could use a friend to talk him around. I thought maybe you'd want to call and try."

Tony shook his head in disbelief. He knew McGee had been told about the scene in Abby's apartment on Christmas Eve. He had faced rejection from people important to him many times in his life. To have it come from Gibbs, with such coldness and finality had cut deeply. He'd thought with enough time and distance, there might be a chance at some point he and Gibbs could eventually clear the air. That hope faded completely as Gibbs quite literally turned his back and left after having barely acknowledged his presence. That callous rejection had bothered him immensely at the time, but he had for the most part, come to terms with it. Tim was well aware by the time he left D.C., the two men were no longer speaking. As bad off as Gibbs was, and as badly as he might feel about it, he had nothing to say to the man who'd time after time chosen self-imposed isolation rather than accepting readily offered help.

"Good for Ducky. No Tim, I _don't_ want to try to talk to him."

There was a long pause as McGee didn't know how to respond at first. He was caught off guard by Tony's abrupt and unexpected refusal to even consider reaching out to Gibbs. Whatever had been said between the two men before Tony left, apparently Tony wasn't able to forgive or forget yet. Even so, he couldn't help the sharp edge of disappointment in his tone as he replied, "Not an overly sympathetic view. You saying you don't care?"

Tony's eyes closed at that insinuation. "I'm saying it doesn't matter to Gibbs either way. That second "B", along with his secrecy, stubbornness, and pride got him where he is now; alone with his life in shambles."

Tony went on determinedly, trying to get Tim to understand how pointless it was for him to get involved. "This is _Gibbs_ we're talking about. Do you really think he's going to want to hear from the one person who tried to warn him he was headed in this direction? That I'd be able to talk him around or that he'd see it as anything but an 'I told you so'? Like I said, I tried that before I left. No…I'm the last person he is going to want to talk to about this, even if I were willing to attempt it."

"Alright Tony," he acquiesced. "I just hope he comes around on his own. If he doesn't agree to therapy, he'll be forced to retire."

"Good. He needed therapy long before this happened. If he won't do it, he _should_ retire."

"You know what they say about hindsight. You're right; looking back I can see that now."

"Hopefully he sees it too, sooner rather than later."

"Yeah. Look, I've got to get back to work, Tony. I'm sorry for the accusation portion of the program. I didn't really mean it like that."

"Don't sweat it," Tony said agreeably. "You all have enough to worry about. Keep me in the loop if you can, ok?"

"Sure Tony. Catch you soon."

Tony ended the call and tossed the burn phone back in his pack. He leaned back in the chair, trying to absorb what he'd just learned. He'd expected Gibbs to reach a breaking point eventually, but this? He hadn't envisioned anything quite this bad happening. He'd implied to McGee that he was indifferent to the situation Gibbs found himself in, which wasn't the case. Worry warred with guilt even though he knew Gibbs' situation was of his own making.

He was deeply saddened by the thought that all the good Gibbs had done in his career was rendered meaningless and his reasons for going on after losing his family could be gone in the blink of an eye. Tony wondered what Gibbs flashed back to in that moment he finally broke. Was it Luke, Kate…Jenny? Or was it an even darker memory from far earlier?

He suspected this was another rock bottom for Gibbs, and hoped his former mentor still had the resilience and will to claw his way back up again. It had helped…talking to someone about the complicated mess his own life had become, unresolved feelings about his father, and his regrets over the break with his former mentor. He hoped Gibbs could manage to do the same.

Tony stood and crossed over to the window, moved the curtain aside and peered out at the city lights twinkling in the darkness. Sunrise was still a couple hours away in Shanghai, but there was no way he could go back to sleep now. Resigned to remaining up, he started the coffeemaker then headed for the shower. As he went, he pondered when he would have a chance to talk to Ducky about what really happened and make sure someone was keeping tabs on Gibbs.

***********************

McGee sat staring at his cell phone morosely. He'd hoped to enlist Tony's help in talking Gibbs out of his self-imposed exile, only to be convinced that things were still far too strained between them for that to work. Tony _did_ ask if Gibbs was OK and if that were his first instinct, McGee suspected he was worried anyway, no matter what he implied to the contrary. He shouldn't have called. He'd pointlessly given Tony something to be worried and distracted about at work and woke him up in the middle of the night to boot.

Not for the first time, he wondered what Tony was working on during all these overseas trips he was taking. It also hadn't escaped his notice that when the subject of his work came up, Tony neatly deflected the conversation away from the topic. Only Ducky seemed to have any clue at all and he was equally tight-lipped. McGee knew it would be pretty easy to check into what Tony was up to, but he wouldn't violate his friend's privacy to satisfy his own curiosity. Still…what could he be doing to warrant such secrecy? He was never one to believe in prescience, but the more he thought about it, the more apprehensive he felt about Tony and whatever he was doing.

Next up: Will Gibbs come around, or continue his downward spiral?


	9. Deconstructed

Chapter 9: Deconstructed

Gibbs had been resting and reading quietly for a couple hours; his iced knee was no longer aching mercilessly. He was also finally getting some respite from his own morose thoughts, when his cell phone chirped from the side table next to the couch. He closed his eyes and breathed out heavily through his nose, annoyed at the interruption and indication of yet _another_ voice mail. He could turn the ringer off, but how to silence the voice mail alert escaped him. He should have had McGee fix that _before_ running him off the other day. Picking up the phone with ill-humor, he looked at the screen to see which well-intentioned meddler was calling now. It was Vance again, and Abby before him. He rolled his eyes and tossed the phone back on the table.

It had been a hellish month, dealing with the fallout of the incident that put his career in jeopardy and life in turmoil. He only had vague, disconnected memories of Bishop being injured and his attack on Powell. He remembered blood on his hands and just enough other details to be appalled at his loss of control. He was still unable to explain it, to himself or anyone else. It was as if that event stripped away his ability to control his behavior or manage his unpredictable emotions. He felt defenseless and didn't want anyone to see him this way. His anger and resentment were the only defenses he had left to him and he'd used them to shut everyone out completely.

He knew he was being unreasonable and obstinate; none of them deserved the way they were being treated. He knew all right, but was still compelled to lick his wounds in private; always had been. He didn't need any of their reminders, thank you very much, that his suspension was coming to an end and he had to decide what to do about the fact that his life was in shambles.

Everything he thought he was and the life he'd made for himself over two and a half decades lay scattered around him; a deconstructed puzzle he had no means of putting back together again. He didn't recognize the person he was any more and had no idea how to get back to normal now that he was denied his usual methods to calm his mind and outwardly maintain his equilibrium. His job had been taken away; his knee prevented him from driving and kept him mostly housebound. It also kept him from working on the boat, in the yard, or doing anything but taking care of basic needs.

While he didn't have to face any of the others, isolating himself had been a double-edged sword, leaving him alone with all the things he desperately wanted an escape from. He was left with nothing to pull him from his somber musings and was faced with the consequences his actions, not the least of which was a series of strained and broken friendships. His failings past and present were constantly front and center in his mind.

Gibbs was pulled from his dark reflections by the sound of footfalls on the front porch steps. He'd made it clear he didn't want visitors and had even gone so far as to lock the doors to make his point. It had worked. Ducky, Abby, and the others had stopped coming…until now.

He ignored the knocking at the door and adjusted the icepack laid over his bad knee. He winced in pain as the sound of a key in the lock had him turning sharply toward the door. Only one person had that key these days. Angry now, he snatched the ice pack that slipped off at his sharp movement and he readied himself to tear Ducky a new one. "Dammit Ducky, I told you to stay the hell away from me," he said loudly.

"Well, it's a good thing I'm not Ducky then, isn't it?" an unexpected male voice answered.

He looked up in shock to see Ellis standing there, his gaze inscrutable.

"What are you doing here?" Gibbs demanded, glaring resentfully at the man who'd first been forced on him by Vance as his SFA, and had now taken over leading his team.

"I'm not sure I should be really," Ellis said ruefully.

"Ya think?" Gibbs snapped as he went back to adjusting the icepack over his knee.

"I _know_ ," Ellis returned curtly. "You and I have had this uneasy truce thing going on for a while, but aren't exactly friends, so why am I here? At first, I was content to let you sit here in the mess you made.

"Why don't you do just that?" Gibbs asked angrily. "Now get out, leave the damn key, and tell Ducky I don't appreciate him handing it over."

"No can do, Gibbs. I got a nagging feeling when you shut the rest of your team out and started pushing back about the fit for duty eval and therapy. Call it a compulsion if you will; and a sense that I owed you an apology."

"What? What the hell for? Gibbs asked, honestly startled at Ellis' words. "You're not the one on suspension here," Gibbs said. "And if you're not going to leave, sit the hell down so I don't have to keep straining my neck looking up at you." he continued, gesturing impatiently at the armchair next to the sofa.

Ellis was a little surprised at the invitation to stay. He nodded in thanks then removed his jacket and threw it over the back of the armchair. He sat down, speaking as he did. "You're far from a screw up Gibbs, but your reputation preceded you."

"What reputation would that be and what the hell does it have to do with anything?" Gibbs asked irritably.

Expecting Gibbs' surliness and unfazed by it, Ellis answered. "You know…the bear with a sore head, second "B", grouchy, unreasonable, and impatient hard ass. Take your pick of expressions used to describe your more charming behavior."

Gibbs narrowed his eyes and glared.

Ellis just smiled infuriatingly and kept ignoring Gibbs' ill mood. "That led me to assume that you were just being your normal lovable self," he said sarcastically. "If long-time members of your team didn't catch it, how would I?"

"Catch what, Ellis? Are you going to get to your point sometime today?"

"The point is, Gibbs, I should have known what was up with you."

Gibbs shifted uncomfortably. "Just what is it you think is up with me?"

"I'll explain if you try and answer a question for me." Ellis said.

Gibbs crossed his arms and raised an eyebrow in inquiry.

"Why did you attack the suspect?" Ellis asked, pulling no punches. He watched as Gibbs inhaled sharply and his jaw clenched, but he seemed to be considering how to reply.

After a moment, Gibbs looked down seemingly lost in thought, "He was about to go after Bishop again. I had to stop him."

Ellis shook his head. "Imminent threat to another agent sounds like a plausible reason, doesn't it? Something most people would buy off on in normal circumstances, like IA did in part...but not me; I was _there_. Those weren't normal circumstances and that's not why, is it?"

Gibbs looked down and ground out, "I don't care what you think, Ellis." He felt Ellis' assessing gaze on him and wondered what the man thought he was seeing.

"Then why are you avoiding answering the question, Gibbs? The _real_ answer, not the one you came up with after the fact. What is it you're trying so hard not to admit?"

Gibbs remained stubbornly silent, prompting Ellis to press him again.

"You don't even remember doing it, do you?" Ellis asked quietly. He watched the proud man struggle for a moment as some inner conflict showed clearly on his face, and felt a growing empathy for him. Then Gibbs finally gave a small shake of his head.

"I thought as much," Ellis said. "I should have known because I've seen it before. If I had, the incident that landed you in this mess might have been avoided and that's why I wanted to apologize."

"Seen what, Ellis?"

"Signs of PTSD, Gibbs." Ellis asserted simply.

"Thank you for that diagnosis, _Doctor Ellis_." Gibbs said snidely. "Consult with Ducky on that, did you? _You_ don't know anything about me."

Ellis went on, undaunted. "Sure I do; probably more than you think."

"Look Ellis, I don't want you here anymore than the others. I don't need anything from any of you, much less an apology." Gibbs' voice was controlled and low, but still sounded vaguely threatening.

"Keep telling yourself that. You've been doing that a long time, right?" Ellis continued, his voice insistent. "Telling yourself everything's fine; you got it _all_ under control when nothing could be further from the truth. You need to stop with the bullshit Gibbs, because you're not fooling anyone but yourself anymore."

"How would _you_ know?"

Ellis went on with calm confidence. "Surely you see your reactions aren't entirely under your control. Like I said, I know because I've seen it. I've seen it, I've lived it, and I've been where you are now."

Anger faded and a flicker of interest appeared in Gibbs expression. "Something happened to you," Gibbs asserted. "In the Army?" he guessed, giving the younger man a searching look.

Ellis nodded somberly. "My last tour in Iraq. My unit was on patrol when our convoy hit an IED. As help arrived, we tried to triage the injured and secure the scene, and then we came under sniper and mortar fire. The whole thing was an ambush." Ellis looked down for a moment, lost in his own memories, then continued. "It was bad Gibbs, and you're looking at one of just two people who lived to tell the tale. Two, Gibbs. Just two…out of eighteen," he finished with a hitch in his voice.

"Damn." Gibbs said. He dropped his head back against the couch and closed his eyes, giving Ellis the illusion of privacy to compose himself after what he'd just shared. It seemed they had a little more in common than he thought.

"And afterward?" he prompted hesitantly after a few moments.

"Afterward, I was a mess." Ellis said. "Hurting, angry, and vengeful. Haunted by the men and women we lost that day. I hated everyone and everything around me and made sure they knew it. No one could possibly understand, right?"

Gibbs just nodded. There were no words for something like this.

"I refused help and isolated myself. I was a complete ass to everyone who crossed my path. Kind of like you've been doing," Ellis added while eyeing Gibbs meaningfully. "I let it go on too long, got discharged. Even after that, I had family who refused to give up on me though I gave them every reason to. More importantly, they refused to let me give up on myself."

Gibbs just stared at first, transfixed by Ellis' story. Then he shook his head, "Being a field agent is all I know. If I can't do that, I think I'm done at NCIS ."

Ellis laughed, breaking the tense and serious mood. "That's a pretty short-sighted view. You're not done unless you really _want_ to be. You're done in the field, yes. To be perfectly frank, you should have been before now. After the Army, I figured out how to make a difference another way. It won't be easy, but you could too if that's what you want. I hope it is because you can still do a world of good."

Gibbs flinched as he recalled Tony saying almost exactly the same thing to him; trying to get him to see he had options other than field work. Back then, he hadn't been ready to hear anything Tony was trying to tell him.

"You know, I've read the files from the Calling case. You've got some issues to work through Gibbs, based on that alone. I suspect there's a little more to it than that." Ellis said.

Gibbs looked at Ellis sharply, wondering what else he knew.

Ellis read his suddenly tense posture and knew what Gibbs had to be thinking.

He held a hand to stop the outburst that looked to be building, judging by Gibbs' dark expression. "Gibbs, I haven't been looking back any further nor do I intend to, if that's what you're thinking. I know there's something there; something big. I don't need to know what it is. All I'm saying is you have to face these things and work through them if you're going to get back on the job. People are bending over backward to make that happen and you have to meet them halfway."

Ellis waited until Gibbs seemed to relax into listening mode again, and then continued.

"Like I said, you aren't done unless that's what you want. Right now, Vance is working on finding a new assignment for you here in DC. The thing is, you have to want it and you have to work for it. That means getting your head right first."

"Vance is really doing that? And when was he going to mention it to _me_?" Gibbs huffed.

"Probably when you get off your ass, stop feeling sorry for yourself, and started making your therapy appointments." Ellis said pointedly. "Otherwise, there's no reason to. You'll be forced into retirement."

Gibbs just leaned his head back against the couch, irked at being reminded of Vance's ultimatum.

Ellis compressed his lips to keep from smiling, knowing exactly what brought on Gibbs' irritated look. He switched tactics. "Did you know Bishop and McGee were both considering transfers before you went off the rails?"

"What! Why wouldn't they come to _me_ with something like that?" he asked, taken aback at that revelation.

"You were part of the problem, Gibbs. You may be dealing with undiagnosed PTSD, but I can tell you it indirectly affects everyone around you, particularly those closest to you. I suspect you realize that now; its partly why I was assigned here, isn't it?"

Gibbs narrowed his eyes at the reference to DiNozzo, but didn't answer.

Ellis went on, ignoring the icy look. "They know now there was more to what was going on with you than met the eye. I had a lot of people pulling for me back then Gibbs, or I wouldn't be here today. You have a lot of people in your corner too, whether you like it or not. They may not get what you're going through, but they're still in your corner, God knows why."

Gibbs shook his head, overwhelmed with emotions he couldn't sort out and didn't know what to do with.

"C'mon, Gibbs," Ellis pressed on, "they want to be there for you; to help in whatever way you'll let them. Don't you think it's time to meet them halfway?"

Ellis watched the inner struggle play across Gibbs' expression. In his isolation, he hadn't needed to keep his stoic mask intact and seemed to have lost the knack. Ellis could see Gibbs still wasn't ready to talk about this with his inner circle.

"Look, you may not be ready for that as things stand now." Ellis backed down a bit, not wanting to push too hard on that point. "They haven't given up on you, not yet. They understand now that there were reasons for your behavior that weren't entirely under your control. But if things don't change, it won't be much longer before you put them back on the edge of making that decision." Gibbs got the message. Ellis was telling him in no uncertain terms he was beginning to succeed in his attempts to alienate the others.

"You can sit here and go on as you have been if that's what you want, with no job and eventually, no one to give a damn. No offense Gibbs, but handling this yourself doesn't seem to be working for you anymore. You don't get a say in how PTSD affects you, but you can learn to manage it. So you have to decide if you've given up on yourself, or if you're ready to face the world again."

Ellis took a breath and fired his final volley. "Time's running out, Gibbs. Your suspension is almost done and you've got a decision to make. Gonna have to call the doc soon if you care at all about salvaging your career at NCIS. As far as the rest of it…well, I wouldn't be where I am today if I hadn't given the docs _and_ myself a chance. Maybe it's what you need and maybe it isn't; but you won't know until you give it a shot."

"Alright Ellis, you've made your points," Gibbs conceded. "I'll consider what you've said."

"Will you?" Ellis asked, side-eyeing him.

Gibbs rolled his eyes and grouched "Yes, dammit."

"Alright then, my work here is done!" Ellis said, grinning widely at him and Gibbs was reminded painfully of Tony in that brief moment. Ellis stood and picked up the jacket draped over the chair back.

Gibbs watched as Ellis donned his jacket, feeling ashamed as the words he wanted to say wouldn't come at first. He'd done nothing to endear himself to this man; had been barely more than civil yet he'd come here ostensibly to give him a career-saving kick in the ass. In doing so, he'd shared something deeply personal and painful, and for the first time in a while he felt like he shared common ground with someone. Ellis got it in a way no one else did.

He finally got past the inability to speak up as Ellis walked to the door.

"Hey Ellis," Gibbs waited until the man turned back to face him. "Leave the door unlocked and...thanks, ok?" he said meaningfully.

Ellis gave him a small, but sincere smile and a 'thumbs up' in return, "Sure thing, Gibbs." He turned quickly and went out the door, sparing them both any awkwardness over the expression of gratitude.

Gibbs smirked and shouted at the door, knowing Ellis would still hear him, "Give my damn key back to Ducky!" He hoped Ducky would get the message; that the door was open to him again.

He leaned back once again, thinking back on Ellis' story and his own situation. All his resistance and denial had gotten him nowhere except in a solitary place where his life was practically in ruins. The struggle had become too exhausting. He was no longer able to maintain the 'everything's fine' facade while he actually felt a constantly simmering anger at his plight and people who'd done nothing wrong. Question was what to do about it.

Jack was gone. He had no family left except the people he'd surrounded himself with through work. He'd been slowly shutting Fornell, Ducky, Abby, and his former team out as he'd become increasingly unable to deal with his problems. Until today, Gibbs had been turning it over and over, unable to make a decision. Ellis had sought help, grudgingly at first and obviously had come through to the other side. He'd learned to deal with his ghosts, his failings, and was obviously able to work and live a normal life again. Gibbs badly wanted that for himself. He wasn't sure he had it in him to change, but maybe Ellis was right and it was time to try something different.

He grabbed his cell phone off the end table and scrolled through his contacts. He highlighted a number and hit dial. A voice answered on the second ring, "Doctor Confalone's office, may I help you?"

 _AN: For those unfamiliar with the acronym, IED - improvised explosive device._

Next up: Tony and Joanna make an unsettling discovery in Shanghai.


	10. Troubling Discoveries

Chapter10: Troubling Discoveries

Tony pulled off his headset, shut down communications to Joanna's team in the field, and breathed a sigh of relief. He'd been coordinating and monitoring their just-completed raid from the CIA Field Office in Shanghai. As the CIA lead, Joanna was in charge here and she'd made a judgment call that Tony should remain behind and coordinate from the field office. He balked at first then relented, understanding Joanna was trying to minimize the chances he might be recognized by someone associated with the group formerly led by Daniel Budd.

He and Joanna had been back and forth between here and Seattle for several weeks investigating, meeting informants, and reviewing incoming intelligence. The task force had finally gotten some promising leads on The Calling's new operations and plans, including the location of the warehouse they'd just raided.

For reasons that hadn't become clear yet, the new group continued to work out of Shanghai. The city's status as a banking and financial hub probably fit in somewhere with the terror organization's funding. It was another angle the team back in Seattle was following up on. Even though they still used Shanghai as a base of operations, they appeared to have learned from some of their previous mistakes. In a new twist, the group seemed to frequently move locations within the large and densely populated city to avoid detection. The partial success of their raid showed the group was well-informed and more elusive than before.

It turned out to be fortunate for Joanna and her team that Tony remained behind to monitor and relay information to them. They'd been granted a brief window of time for high resolution satellite coverage and scheduled the raid accordingly. Accompanied by local law enforcement, Joanna's team raided the warehouse suspected of being used by the Calling to coordinate arms shipments and communicate with their sleeper cells in the states. Tony monitored the satellite feed and had easily been able to see the heat signatures of unfriendlies fleeing the building. A small group splintered off and appeared to be waiting outside to catch Joanna's team off guard. As soon as he realized what was happening, Tony quickly alerted Joanna and the others of a potential ambush. He relayed the hostile's positions, allowing Joanna's team to turn the tables on the group lying in wait. After a nerve-wracking few minutes during which Tony watched a brief firefight taking place, Joanna reported that it was over and there were no casualties.

Thanks to Tony's warning, they'd also caught a welcome break as Joanna's team was able to capture two of the Calling's members. He could hear the satisfaction in her voice as she told him they were in the custody of the local LEO's, awaiting interrogation.

Now apprehension warred with fading adrenaline as he waited for the team to return. Tony hadn't mentioned it to Joanna, not wanting to trust their communications were completely secure, but the satellite coverage had revealed something else. The terrorists in the building started fleeing just before Joanna and her team arrived. It sure as hell looked like they'd been tipped off at the last minute. Now they had to figure out how that happened. They could have been tipped off by anyone, including law enforcement. Joanna wasn't going to happy to hear they seemed to have someone looking over their shoulder again.

Joanna hurriedly closed the video she'd just been watching and cast a furtive glance around her to see if anyone else had been paying attention. Exhaling in relief, she noted the rest of the team was busy logging evidence and boxing the few items left behind as the terrorists fled the warehouse. One of them had apparently dropped a flash drive as they ran, which Joanna had retrieved. Once the scene had been secured, she'd decided to use one of their laptops to briefly scan its contents. At first glance, it appeared all of the files were encrypted so there wasn't much she could read until the computer forensics people had their shot at it, and then an unencrypted video and several image files caught her eye.

Starting with the video, Joanna felt a nagging sense of familiarity as it began to play. It had no audio and showed the interior of a darkened room with the view panning back and forth from a fixed point high in the room. Security camera footage then, she thought. She leaned closer as the view continued to pan and she sucked in a shocked breath as she realized what she was seeing, and why it looked familiar. Dismayed, she'd immediately closed the video and glanced around to make sure no one else had seen it. With everyone else on the other side of the room, she quickly previewed a couple of the image files to confirm her suspicions, then removed the flash drive and put it in a zippered pocket in her jacket. This couldn't be entered into evidence yet; not until Tony had seen it. Then they'd decide together what to do about it.

Tony paced in agitation, waiting for Joanna and the others to return. She called a short time ago to let him know they were heading back and had something to show him. He'd asked what, and she'd simply replied "not now." Her reluctance to speak around the others set off warning bells and a gnawing feeling in his gut.

Finally, he thought as he caught sight of the vehicles pulling into the garage. A few minutes later Joanna and her team filed in, carry bags of gear and boxes of evidence. As the others set to work sorting it all, Joanna inclined her head, indicating Tony should follow her. She led the way to a secure conference room and locked the door behind them.

"So, what did you find?" Tony asked.

"Well we've confirmed the intel indicated The Calling has expanded their operations into international arms dealing, although it's limited in scale. Still, you wouldn't believe some of the stuff in that warehouse. The local cops are going to be cataloging it for _days_ ," she sighed.

"But that's not what you didn't want to tell me over an open line," Tony asserted.

"No, it isn't. We have a problem, Nick." Joanna said, as she placed the laptop she was carrying on the table and turned it on.

"Well, if that's the case, we have more than one," Tony replied as they waited to the laptop to boot.

"Really?" Joanna asked. "Did you catch something else on the cameras or satellite?"

"Satellite…they started clearing out before your team even got in the building. They had advance warning we were coming." Tony said, with frustration clear in his voice.

Joanna rubbed her temples absently as the headache that began earlier back at the warehouse intensified. This development was unwelcome, but not necessarily surprising. "Last time, the Calling proved adept at enlisting help in tracking our movements. We've worked hard to keep that from happening again this time around." she said. "The only people we can't vet very well are the local LEOs and excluding them isn't an option. We need their cooperation to work here."

Tony shook his head in irritation. "We've got to do something to get a handle on this or The Calling will always be two steps ahead of us."

"I know Nick; I'll get people on it."

Tony nodded in satisfaction, and then asked "So what is it you need to show me?"

Joanna's face took on a grim look. She pulled the flash drive from her pocket, plugged it in, and opened the video file. She turned the laptop where they both could watch and hit play. Tony watched; confusion on his features at first. Joanna saw the moment realization dawned on his face and he recognized the scene before him.

Tony watched in stunned disbelief as the raid on The Calling's compound over a year and a half ago played out on the screen. He saw a brief glimpse of Luke Harris before the camera panned again. Then he saw himself and Joanna on the screen amidst the chaos and confusion of the raid, and their attempts to evacuate the building as they realized there was a bomb about to go off.

"You found this today?" Tony asked in a hoarse voice.

Joanna nodded; her face expressionless. "I don't know how the hell they got this. After the bomb went off, that building was burned to a cinder along with everything inside it."

"Yeah, you do," Tony said. "If someone has a copy it means the warehouse was being monitored remotely. The security footage was recorded and saved from offsite. The existence of this video and the fact that it turned up now means we missed someone important, someone that wasn't at the compound when it went up. We might have gotten our first concrete lead on who got away last time and who's running the show now."

Joanna nodded in agreement and said "There's more, Nick." She showed him the image files. Tony's sense of foreboding grew as he looked at pictures of himself and Joanna at various places around Shanghai the year before last, including several grainy close up screen captures from the video they'd just watched.

Tony wondered if his assumed identity was still holding up to scrutiny in light of this evidence that The Calling seemed to be continuing their pursuit of those involved in that operation nearly two years ago. "Well, that's just perfect," Tony said sarcastically as he viewed the images. "I don't know whether to be relieved or more worried now."

"Why would you be relieved?" Joanna asked, her brow furrowed in confusion.

"If they know what I look like, it's only a matter of time before they track down who I am. Before it gets to that point, it's prudent to give our teams back in Seattle this back story."

"I'm not sure that's entirely necessary," Joanna disagreed, worried about disclosing specific details about CIA ops and assets.

"Why would we even need to debate it?" Tony replied heatedly. "I thought _I_ had trust issues. This isn't a CIA op anymore Joanna, it's a joint Federal task force and there's no good reason for secrecy." He shook his head in frustration. "I told you how I feel about withholding information relevant to investigations. They need to know; not just so we can do our jobs but because history with this group dictates that _we_ may not be the only ones targeted. Are you forgetting about all the collateral damage deaths this group is responsible for? If you don't tell them, I will."

Joanna realized trying to fight Tony on this point was a losing battle. "Alright, we'll read them in…with one exception." Joanna agreed. "I know it's become difficult, but keeping the alias in place for the time being is best until we're certain it's no longer necessary."

Tony nodded unhappily. "What about you? We know this means it's pretty certain that the Calling is aware of our role in bringing down the previous network and is actively looking for us."

"I'm not worried about me and you shouldn't be either. Besides, there are no names and no current photos; they're all from the year before last," Joanna pointed out.

"Right," Tony said. "So we assume they're looking for us, but possibly have not identified us yet. We need to get the other files decrypted and hope they shed some light on that, and the more important questions."

Joanna looked at him inquiringly, waiting for him to continue.

"The whole idea of this special task force is being proactive in taking the battle to them. What if the information on this flash drive is telling us The Calling is equally willing to do that?" Tony speculated.

"Meaning?" Joanna asked.

"Meaning I'm not simply concerned about how close they've gotten to identifying us. There could be an emerging indirect threat to the others as well, so what we _really_ need to find out is if they know about the task force and if they have connected _us_ to it."

"And if they have?" Joanna queried.

"Then we _all_ need to be ready because we'll know it's only a matter of time before they come after us." Tony asserted grimly.

 _Elsewhere in Shanghai…_

The new leader of The Calling was a very careful and deliberate man; he always had been. If that were not the case, he had no doubt about what his fate would have been when the group was dismantled by the American agents and their allies nearly two years ago. He would be in jail like the rest of the old loyalists associated with the group or worse, he could be dead like Daniel and the others who'd been highly placed in the group's leadership.

As it was, he'd barely escaped the burning compound with his life and watched from the shadows as everything they built was destroyed. Injured escaping the fire, he'd gone into hiding for a time. Later, he'd gotten word of Daniel's death at the hands of an unidentified American and knew then it was all over. Forced to abandon his home and assets in Shanghai, he returned to France, where The Calling had roots and where he'd met and recruited people like Daniel and Matthew Rousseau into the group.

It was there, in a place where he'd been marginalized and disenfranchised solely because of his mixed European and North African heritage that the seeds of discontent and a need for revenge had bloomed into a desire to begin again. The current political climate provided a rich recruiting environment and he'd soon had a loyal and skilled following with which to start over.

He'd resolved to do things differently this time and to make sure the mistakes of the past weren't repeated. He'd reformed the group and established a smaller, more easily controlled network with highly specialized goals as determined by the highest bidder. Daniel had been right about one thing, cyberterrorism was an effective weapon in their arsenal. It was also highly lucrative and funded those bloody plots designed to induce fear, mistrust, and paranoia in the governments and general populations where they were carried out. This time though, cyberterrorism was a weapon that would be wielded by adults loyal to their cause, not easily malleable children.

There would be no pied piper figure like Daniel, who had played the part with such perfection. It had been his idea to use teenage misfits and malcontents in their U.S. based hacker network. It had worked brilliantly for a time but had ultimately proven flawed. One of their young recruits had been too knowledgeable, allowed to be too well-placed and that led to disaster. Luke Harris and his family paid the price for his deceit and betrayal, as had all the others who'd failed him or otherwise opposed The Calling. He felt no remorse at all for ordering their deaths and there was still unfinished business in that regard.

His temper flared at thought of the death of the brilliant young man he'd taken under his wing and who he'd allowed himself to become close to. Daniel became the face of the movement; it's leader in name only while he sat back and directed operations from the shadows, a fact known by only a few. As arrogant as he was intelligent, Daniel had been allowed too much leeway and made critical missteps. Those errors enabled a small group of American agents to deal a death blow to their plans.

One of the first things he'd done after getting the group established again was dedicate every resource he had to finding and eliminating those agents along with anyone known to have helped them. Now he was down to the CIA woman and her unknown companion, the one he suspected was responsible for Daniel's death. They were proving particularly difficult to track, which told him they could be aware of The Calling's connection to the deaths he'd ordered.

A knock at the door pulled him from his musings and reminded him of the internal matter that needed rectifying. He took a few items out of his desk drawer he'd gathered for this meeting, and then called out his permission for the three men he'd summoned to enter.

"Emile," he greeted the dark-skinned man entering first. Emile Rousseau was his right hand man and brother to Matthew. Smiling, he gestured his second in command to the chair next him. Looking at the two Asian men standing in front of the desk, "Mr. Chan, won't you sit?" he asked politely and nodded at the chair in front of the desk. "Officer Wei, I'm afraid I've no more chairs, but I won't keep you long.

"I'm fine standing, Mr. LaPointe," the uniformed police officer answered.

"Good. So Mr. Chan," he said, turning his gaze to the man in the chair. "How very fortunate you were able to escape the raid on our arms warehouse."

"Yes, it was a close thing but thanks to Officer Wei's warning, we were at least able to escape with all the computers and data."

LaPointe nodded. "Unfortunately, that warning did not provide us enough time to move a rather significant arms cache." Wei shifted nervously at that but remained silent.

"However," LaPointe continued, staring intently at Chan, "that is not why you are here. I believe you said you were able to remove all the data and computers? How is it then you are no longer in possession of a very valuable flash drive?

Chan paled and spoke nervously. "I'm sorry sir; I must have dropped it in the rush to escape before the Americans arrived with the police."

"I see…well, these things happen sometimes. We can't afford these kinds of mistakes you understand, yes?"

"I do sir, it won't happen again."

"Oh yes, Mr. Chan. I know it won't."

There was a soft sound from under the desk and Chan suddenly jerked back sharply in his chair, sending it and him toppling to the floor. As Chan lay gasping and moaning in pain, blood from his abdomen spreading on the floor, LaPointe stood calmly, leaned over the desk and fired a silenced gun once more into the man's chest.

Wei's face was white with shock and disbelief at the callous murder. Unable to tear his eyes from the body, he took a step back from the blood spreading across the floor tiles.

Emile just sat and smirked as LaPointe laid the gun on the desk and took his seat again, resuming the conversation as if the last minute never happened.

"Now Officer Wei, I trust this will be an adequate bonus in thanks for your early warning," LaPointe said as he pushed an envelope stuffed with money across the desk. "Oh, and I'm sure you have the means to ensure this finds a new home at the harbor bottom, yes?" he added, sliding the still-warm handgun across the desk at the officer.

"Yes sir," the officer stuttered nervously as he reached for the items with shaking hands. He'd heard rumors of the ruthlessness exhibited by this man but had never seen it himself until now.

"That will be all Officer Wei. We will be in touch when you are needed again. In the meantime, your attention to any information that might be of particular…interest to us would be most appreciated."

The officer nodded, still dumbfounded by the brutal murder that had just been committed in front of him. He said nothing as he turned toward the door to leave, stepping carefully around Chan's body.

"Oh and Officer Wei, you are being watched. I suggest you carry out your task properly and without delay. You have a family to think about, do you not?" LaPointe asked, menace clear in his voice.

The man stuttered an affirmative and rushed out of the door. Emile huffed in amusement as he stood and closed the door before turning back to his leader.

"Now Emile, as Mr. Chan will be unable to complete this task, I give it to you. The loss of the flash drive is unfortunate, but it will take them awhile to decrypt its contents. We must make arrangements to move the remaining operations and arms caches first before their current locations are revealed."

"It will be done," Emile affirmed. "You have something else for me?" he asked inclining his head toward the folder on the desk.

"Oh yes. Something else Mr. Chan will no longer be able to attend to." LaPointe said as he turned the folder around and opened it, revealing the first of two photos.

He touched the first one of a middle aged, but still slender and attractive woman. "This is the CIA woman, Teague. She's worked out of Shanghai off and on for years and was instrumental in dismantling our prior operation. She is no longer based out of Langley or D.C. and we have lost track of her stateside, but she has been sighted conducting operations here periodically. We locate where she lives and works stateside and have her watched. When the time is right, she will die."

Emile nodded. "We will find her. Are there others?" Emile asked, pointing to a second photo under the first.

LaPointe slid the first photo aside. His eyes glittered with fury and malice as a man's face was revealed. Emile studied the handsome face, wondering what this man had done to earn such a look of pure hatred from LaPointe.

"This one is not CIA, but worked with the woman before. Perhaps tracking her will lead us to him.

Emile continued to look at both photos, committing the faces to memory. "What has this one done to anger you so?"

"This one killed Daniel. I want him found, and then I will deal with him personally. As for Teague, she and her people are attempting to interfere with us again. We need to know more about them and who is helping them."

"How do we do that without revealing too much ourselves?" Emile asked.

LaPointe's smile was chilling. "We give the agents what they think they want. It's time we went fishing...with a lure they won't be able to resist. When they take the bait then we set a trap; one that will put an end to their interference once and for all."

 _To be continued..._

Dear readers: If you've made it to this point, then I'd like to thank you for reading my second ever story. What started out as something short, sweet, and originally intended to replace the S13 finale with my own outcome has turned into something much more. With support and encouragement of friends, fellow writers, and you lovely readers, it's also become a journey to address a multitude of other sins. At least that's how *I* viewed them :)

If you've come this far, I hope you'll be willing to come a little further. This story continues in the third and final installment, titled "Chapter and Verse," and I hope you'll follow along. It's currently well underway and chapter 1 is now up.


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